Truths, Secrets, and Lies
by Torrential Zephyr
Summary: Over the course of his fifth year, Harry makes a discovery that does not seem possible. A new student will prove key to the discovery of the truth of Harry’s past. Chapter 7 is posted!
1. Truths, Secrets, and Lies

Truths, Secrets, and Lies

**Disclaimer**:

Aside from the plot (and future characters), everything belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.

**Summary**:

Throughout his fifth year at Hogwarts, Harry discovers a paradox that could quite possibly upturn his life.

**A/N**:

This story was formerly called 'Harry Potter and the Lost Year,' however, an alteration in storyline called for a new (better) name.  'Truths, Secrets, and Lies,' however, is going to be extremely different from the 'Lost Year,' especially in later chapters.

Chapter 1

On the sleepy street of Privet Drive, just inside house Number Four, a boy awoke suddenly from a nightmare he could almost remember, and, for the thousandth time in his young life, wished he could just be normal.

The boy, called Harry Potter, was about as abnormal as could be possible.  For one thing, Harry happened to be a wizard.  However, Harry couldn't be considered normal, even by wizarding standards.  Harry happened to be considered abnormal because when he was just one year old, he survived the killing curse, Avada Kedavra, which had been used against him by the Dark Lord Voldemort.  By surviving the curse, Harry somehow caused the curse to rebound on its originator, ultimately leading to Voldemort's downfall.  For this reason, Harry would always be known as Harry Potter, 'The Boy Who Lived.'

Since Harry had been an active in the wizarding world, he had had three different encounters with Lord Voldemort, but the most recent meeting was the most vivid in his mind.

Turning restlessly in his bed, Harry thought about the encounter.  Bitterly, Harry remembered the day of the third task for the Triwizard Tournament when he had seen Lord Voldemort order Wormtail to kill Cedric Diggory while Harry watched, terrified.  Throughout the summer, Harry had desperately tried to forget the sordid details of that night, but this had become increasingly difficult as the summer progressed.  Harry's relatives, the Dursleys, who despised anything connected with magic—including Harry—, still allowed very little communication between Harry and his friends (the exception being Harry's godfather, Sirius Black, whom the Dursleys still thought was an escaped murderer).  Even his faithful owl, Hedwig, had been absent for days.  This, by far, had been Harry's most miserable summer holiday ever as he was forced to fill the long, sultry days reliving both Cedric's death, and Voldemort's rebirth.

After deciding he really should do something rather than brood about his unhappy fifth year, Harry resolved to eat breakfast, or, rather, lunch, he thought, as he looked at the clock currently reading 12:32 p.m.  He cast an unhappy glance at his faithful owl, Hedwig's, empty cage before departing his room.

Harry walked slowly into the kitchen, and could see his elephantine cousin, Dudley, was staring, transfixed, at the television as he was greedily emptying the contents of a bag of potato chips into his mouth.  Rolling his eyes, Harry began scavenging through the refrigerator for something Dudley hadn't eaten.  Within seconds, Harry was interrupted as Uncle Vernon burst into the kitchen, followed closely by Aunt Petunia.  Taken by surprise, Harry dropped the bottle of milk he had been holding, causing it to shatter.  Aunt Petunia winced as her spotless floor was marred, and opened her mouth to admonish Harry for his blunder, but was interrupted by Uncle Vernon, who, intending to intimidate Harry, came within a hands breadth of his nephew.

"Old Mrs. Figg is here to see you, boy," Uncle Vernon spat.  "I don't know why she'd want to speak to _you_, but she does.  Don't let me hear that you disrespect that woman, or I'll have your head!"

Being used to his uncle's threats, Harry rolled his eyes inwardly as he began to trudge to the front door.

"Hello, Mrs. Figg—" Harry began, but was abruptly cut off by the frail-looking woman standing before him.

"Harry, there is no time for niceties.  You are to come to my house immediately.  Bring your school things.  I'll be waiting for you there."

Dumbstruck, Harry stood motionless for a moment before comprehension dawned on him.  "Wait a minute," he whispered.  "How does she know about my 'school things'?"  He pondered this as he watched the retreating woman's back.

Quickly, however, Harry was jerked back to reality.  "_Do_ hurry, now, Harry!"

Deciding to follow her command, Harry raced up the stairs to hurriedly gather his Hogwarts necessities.  Shortly after Harry had reached his room, Uncle Vernon once again made his presence known.

"May I ask what could be so important that you are shirking your duties?  I believe you shattered a milk bottle in the kitchen moments ago," he said mockingly.

Harry vaguely waved the question away and continued shuffling rolls of parchment into a small bag.

Growing angered, Uncle Vernon bellowed, "I _ORDER _you totell me what's going on!"

In the blink of an eye, Harry had pulled his wand out and aimed it at Uncle Vernon.  "I don't believe you have the right to order me to do anything," Harry said in an utterly calm, but threatening voice.  "I was told to go as quickly as possible to Mrs. Figg's house, and that's what I will be doing.  I don't know what the circumstances are, but I _do_ know that you won't be shouting orders at me when I obviously have more important matters to attend to," Harry finished, leaving Uncle Vernon to stand in the hallway mouthing wordlessly at Harry, who had continued to pack his trunk.

Several minutes later, Harry was attempting, with great difficulty, to pull his trunk down the stairs without it causing him to topple down the stairs.  Soon enough, Harry was standing in the entry hall with all of his belongings, feeling anxiety course through his veins as he tried to imagine what exactly Mrs. Figg could know about Harry's school.  

Deciding that the Ministry would surely forgive him just this once, Harry cast _Windardium Leviosa_ on his trunk, and, having decided it would prove extremely difficult to explain a large, floating trunk, Harry draped his invisibility cloak over the trunk.  Harry then proceeded to walk the short distance to Mrs. Figg's house, while carefully maneuvering his trunk in front of him.

Harry's knocks upon Mrs. Figg's door sounded dull and foreboding, but, despite the growing fear welling in the pit of his stomach, Harry fought the urge to hide from the world.

After several minutes of waiting, the door quickly swung open, revealing, much to Harry's surprise, an attractive woman with graying brown hair, about the same age as his godfather, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin.

"Er—sorry…" Harry began as he began to try to create an excuse for knocking on the door of the wrong house.

"Harry, dear, it's me," the woman said simply, in what was, unmistakably, Mrs. Figg's voice.  "Why don't you come inside?  I was sure I told you to bring your school things…" her voice trailed off as her brown eyes scanned the porch.

"Oh… it's right here," Harry said as he pulled off the invisibility cloak.

Mrs. Figg's face broke into a joyful smile as she exclaimed, "James' cloak!  The extent of the havoc he and his friends wreaked beneath that cloak, the world will never know," she reminisced, losing her train of thought.  Blinking the memories away, she ushered Harry inside her house.

Harry absorbed his surroundings.  Mrs. Figg's house looked just as he remembered—well-loved furniture, pictures of cats, and doilies everywhere.

"First of all, Harry," Mrs. Figg began, "I think there are a few things that you need to understand.  First of all, I am a witch—though you had probably figured that out yourself.  Second, I, Arabella Figg, called best friend for nearly a decade of my life, Lily Evans-Potter."  She paused a moment to allow Harry to process that information.

When Harry didn't say anything, she continued; "Since the moment of your parents' deaths, you have been under more protection than you could ever imagine."

Apparently, Harry's face betrayed his thoughts, for Mrs. Figg continued, "It has nothing to do with weakness, Harry.  We have very important reasons for creating such an intricate net of safety for you.

"It was with your safety in mind that I decided to betray my disguise as an elderly Muggle, and call you to my house."

As if on cue, the front door emitted a squeak as it was pushed opened.  Standing in the doorway, in full wizard's garb, stood non-other than Albus Dumbledore.

"Good afternoon, Harry," the professor said, smiling behind his long, silver beard.

"Hello," Harry said uncertainly as he tried to imagine all of the possible reasons Albus Dumbledore would be in the home of Arabella Figg.  However, the only reason Harry could deduce was concerning Voldemort.  Harry shuddered as he imagined the news he would hear…  Indeed, it seemed that the number of terrible possibilities to be endless.

Standing, Mrs. Figg cheerfully asked, "Shall I make us some tea?"  Without waiting for the answer, she bustled out of the parlor, and headed to the kitchen, where the clanking of pots could be heard.

"I see you've met the true Arabella Figg," Dumbledore said, the familiar twinkle radiating from his eyes.  "She's quite the talented witch—right up there with James, Sirius, and Lily.  Did you know she used to teach Charms before she became appointed your guardian?"

Harry shook his head silently.

"Yes… she was always talented in charms.  Though, as I recall, her first love was Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Wondering where this was heading, Harry prompted, "Professor, I still don't know for certain why I'm here…"

"Ah, yes," Professor Dumbledore said, his features darkening.  "It is with dire news I come to speak with you—I notified Arabella as soon as I could, but I felt it would be best for me to tell you in person."

"Here's the tea!"  Mrs. Figg returned a scant amount of time after leaving to make the tea.  "How I love being a witch—making tea couldn't possibly be easier," she said, winking at Harry.

"Arabella, I was just about to tell Harry about the break-in."

With that one statement, Professor Dumbledore succeeded in causing Mrs. Figg to lower her eyes miserably—clearly knowing what the professor was about to divulge. 

"As I was saying, Harry," Dumbledore continued reverently, seeming to be struggling to find the correct words.  "I have a very important matter to discuss with you.  As you are all too well aware, Voldemort has returned to his body, and has yet again surrounded himself with supporters.  The Ministry didn't want to believe this to be true, and refused to take immediate action.  Yesterday, Voldemort reclaimed the dementors as his dark servants.  The dementors left their posts at Azkaban, leaving the prisoners unattended.  Though some prisoners were not coherent enough to realize their freedom, many prisoners—many _Death Eaters_—escaped.  Of course, within hours of the dementors' departure, trained Ministry wizards arrived Azkaban, but it was not soon enough.  They estimated that at least three-quarters of the prisoners escaped, but they don't know _how_ they escaped.  A thorough search of the water surrounding the island was made, but not one person was found," he stopped speaking, and gazed intently at Harry, as if he had been worried Harry wouldn't be able to bear hearing the news.

Indeed, it had been difficult news for Harry to hear.  "So—so they're free?" Harry heard himself utter.

"Yes, Harry; the prisoners may be roaming through Britain."

"And the dementors?" Harry asked.

"Yes.  It is currently unknown where the escapees and dementors are—let alone what evil deeds they could be performing.  This is why I felt is necessary to notify you of your protection—and protector," he added, smiling a sad sort of smile at Arabella. 

Harry nodded to show he understood, but was still trying to fathom the seriousness of the situation.  He knew, because of his experience the previous school year, that Voldemort had many servants who had escaped Azkaban by denouncing their involvement with Voldemort… but add to these numbers his most faithful minions?  Shuddering, Harry pushed the idea from his head.

"After serious consideration, I have decided that you shall be sent to stay with the Weasley's as quickly as possible.  Preferably, I would have chosen for you to be under Bella's care, but the circumstance has changed.  I _had_ considered the possibility of an event to this magnitude, but I had not taken into consideration Arabella's potential role in such a crisis."

Arabella looked determinedly into Dumbledore's pleading eyes, and nodded her head. The professor heaved a sigh of relief.  Harry was oblivious, however, to what she may have accepted.

"Now," Dumbledore said lightly, interrupting Harry's thoughts, "Let's talk about some less serious matter.  I have decided that, until the situation becomes threatening at Hogwarts, Quidditch shall be played once again this year."

This statement was enough to lift Harry's spirit considerably.  Smiling, he said, "That's great, Professor!"  Then, a little more seriously, he added, "Quidditch is one of the few activities that has been able to take my mind off—things."

Professor Dumbledore nodded knowingly.  "I seem to remember James saying that very same thing once or twice."

Harry smiled as he always did at the mention of his parents.

At the sudden ringing of bells, Albus Dumbledore leapt to his feet.  He pulled out his pocket watch, and looked grimly at its face.

"I'm afraid I must be on my way," he said.  To Harry, he said, "Harry, you will be staying with Arabella until the Weasleys arrive."  And to Mrs. Figg, he said, "Arthur and Molly will be arriving in one week by means of Ministry cars.  However, Harry I am strongly suggesting you stay with Arabella before the Weasleys come to take you to the Burrow."

Mrs. Figg and Harry nodded, and Mrs. Figg and Professor Dumbledore exchanged their goodbyes.

"Goodbye, I'll be seeing you shortly!" the professor said ambiguously.

"Bye," Mrs. Figg and Harry chorused.

Harry watched the white-haired professor walk slowly across the lawn, and realized with a jolt how much older Professor Dumbledore had come to act.  He didn't _look_ any different, but he seemed more tired—exhausted, really—and wasn't radiating the sense of vitality he had shown in Harry's past years at Hogwarts.  From the looks on their faces, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were thinking the same thing.


	2. Truths, Secrets, and Lies Chapter 2

Truths, Secrets, and Lies

**Disclaimer**:

Aside from the plot (and future characters), everything belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.

**Summary**:

Throughout his fifth year at Hogwarts, Harry discovers a paradox that could quite possibly upturn his life.

**A/N**:

This story was formerly called 'Harry Potter and the Lost Year,' however, an alteration in storyline called for a new (better) name.  'Truths, Secrets, and Lies,' however, is going to be extremely different from the 'Lost Year,' especially in later chapters.

Chapter 2

Harry's slumber had been disrupted by troublesome dreams—he had awoken in a cold sweat at three in the morning because of one particular dream.

Rubbing his eyes, Harry recalled the dream…

There had been children playing beneath the hot summer sun.  The children had been the very quintessence of happiness.  However, a dark shadow had engulfed the sun, casting the children into darkness.  Then the Eeath Eaters made their appearance.  Jaw clenched, Harry fought to forget the screams of the children…

Deciding that sleep was out of the question, Harry merely lay on the couch in Mrs. Figg's parlor, and stared out the window, absently marveling at the joy the children had expressed before sadness swept over him.  How long would their carefree happiness last?  Would Muggles be informed of the atrocities Voldemort had committed, or indeed, what he was capable of?

Despite himself, Harry yawned widely.  Not wishing to suffer more nightmares, Harry decided to ward off sleep, and crept tentatively through the unfamiliar house to the kitchen, where he poured himself a glass of water with shaky hands.  He rinsed out the glass, and was about to go back to the parlor, when he heard a soft rap at the window; _tap, tap, tap._

Harry stopped mid-stride and looked out into the pressing darkness.  _Tap, tap, tap_; he heard again, this time seeing a flash of white.

"Hedwig!" he exclaimed gleefully.  As quickly as possible, he opened the window, and allowed Hedwig to perch on his arm as he removed the letters from her leg.  Then, he filled two dishes in her cage with water and a bit of meat.  In return, she hooted gratefully, and began to nibble at her food.

In the meantime, Harry lit a lamp in the parlor, and began to read the two letters he had received.

The first had come from Hagrid.

Harry,

I hope Hedwig can find you…  I'm pretty far away from Surrey on Hogwarts business.  Though, I'm sure she can—heaven knows how or why she chose to find me.  You have one smart owl, Harry.

Anyway, our recruiting of the giants hasn't been entirely successful.  Apparently, You-Know-Who had the same idea as Dumbledore.  Many of the giants we've spoken to are enlisted by Death Eaters.

However, we have gotten many giants to join our side, though for a price.  Through negotiations, I uncovered a bit of information you'd be interested in hearing.  I'll tell you at Hogwarts.

Rubeus Hagrid

And Olympe Maxime (who authored this note)

Harry pondered for a moment what information Hagrid had uncovered, then, with a smile, he decided that there were few things Hagrid would wish to discuss, but Madame Maxime and dangerous creatures were at the top of the list.  Still smiling, Harry opened the next note, written in Ron's unmistakable scrawl.

Harry, Mum's just told me that you're coming to stay with us!  Can you believe it?  Last year, Dumbledore sounded as though you'd be trapped at the Dursley's for the whole summer (what a drag that would be, eh?).  Anyway, Hermione recently wrote to tell me that she's staying at _Vickie's_ house in Bulgaria.  I guess we can't compare with _Vickie_.  She should be coming to the Burrow tomorrow, though, so I suppose I will get to find out all about Bulgaria.  I can't wait… HA!

I'm sending this letter with Hedwig, because Errol looks as though one more delivery will finish him off…  Ginny got rather upset when I spoke of using him.  It was pretty lucky Hedwig showed up.

I'll see you soon mate!

Ron

Harry shook his head in disbelief.  Ron and Hermione bickered all the time, but (especially more recently) he had noticed the duo were really only skirting around their true feelings.

Finally feeling content in knowing he still had friends who cared about him, Harry slipped beneath his covers, and eased into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

*~*~*

Sunlight streamed onto his face as Harry suddenly woke.  He lay still for a moment as he tried to remember what had wakened him, when the cause for his disturbance became painfully clear.  From the kitchen, the deafening noise of Mrs. Figg could be heard.  Reluctantly, Harry rose to greet the woman who had given him a safe place to sleep.

"Hello, Mrs. Figg," Harry said—his voice still gravely from the hours of nonuse.

She glanced up only long enough to flash Harry a smile before returning to stir her batter and saying, "Good morning, Harry.  I'm making pancakes.  Many of my peers chose to use magic to make food, but I've always found it leaves a certain something to be missed…" she began to babble.  "Anyway, these pancakes should be finished in fifteen minutes.  I saw you received a letter from a Hermione Granger—I put the letter on the table beside the couch in the parlor."

"Thanks," Harry said.  "I think I'll go read that now."

Hello, Harry!  I hope you've had a pleasant summer.  I've only just returned from Bulgaria—it's such a beautiful country, and it has an absolutely fascinating history…

(She continued to prattle about famous witches and wizards from Bulgaria, but Harry decided to skip to the bottom of the paragraph)

I'm looking forward to visiting the Burrow—I've never been more ready to be surrounded by friends.  Mum and Dad are driving me to London in a few hours, and I'm to meet the Weasleys at Diagon Alley.  We're not buying our school supplies yet, but Mr. Weasley wanted to have dinner with my parents, so Mum and Dad offered to pay for dinner at the Leaky Cauldron.

Ron's just wrote me to say that you're coming to his house soon.  I can't wait to see you!

With love,

Hermione

P.S.  I'm sending this with Ron's 'Pig.'  I do hope he's more reliable than Ron claims…

Harry carefully folded the piece of parchment, placed it by Hagrid's, and Ron's letters, and walked back to the kitchen.

"I hope you received good news?"  Mrs. Figg asked as she poured pancake batter onto a griddle.

"Oh, my friend, Hermione, just sent me a letter—I guess now that they know I'm not at the Dursleys', they are more encouraged to tell me all the news I'm missing out on."

Mrs. Figg laughed, "Yes, well, luckily you'll be able to see them soon."

"Yes," Harry agreed.

*~*~*

The remaining days before the Weasleys were to make their appearance at Mrs. Figg's house passed in a blur.  Harry had come to grow fond of his formerly elderly neighbor.  She had recounted numerous stories about herself and her adolescent friends:  Lily, James, Sirius, and Remus.

"…I remember Lily and James' wedding—it was like a fairytale.  Lily had insisted on purchasing matching rings made of a particular substance… Oh I can't remember what it was called!  James desperately wanted to buy his bride a magnificent gold and diamond ring, but Lily threatened to call off the wedding unless he agreed to these silver-colored rings.  Of course, James was never one to deny his bride-to-be anything.  Even at Hogwarts he was constantly trying to impress her with lavish gifts, but Lily would have none of it…"

Despite the fact that he couldn't help but look forward to seeing his best friends and his favorite wizarding family again, Harry felt himself almost dreading leaving Mrs. Figg's house.  No one Harry had met would speak so candidly about his parents, and he decided rather enjoyed it.

"Harry, do you have your trunk packed to go to the Weasleys'?  They should be here any moment…"  Mrs. Figg said, bustling around the house to make sure that there was nothing Harry had forgotten.

"I think I've got everything," Harry said as he gazed out a window to see the street.

"All right.  I just don't want you to forget any—oh!  They're here," she exclaimed.

Harry, too, noticed the forest green Ministry cars pull up to Mrs. Figg's picketed fence.  At once, Mrs. Weasley leapt out of the car, and began to walk briskly, almost desperately, to Mrs. Figg's front door.  She rapped on the door, and waited impatiently for her husband to join her.  Harry quickly opened the door to greet Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"Harry, dear!  We're so happy to see you!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed upon spotting Harry.  She strode to Harry and nearly smothered him in a hug.  Harry enjoyed this affectionate, motherly gesture, but, nevertheless, was glad to be able to breathe again.

"Hi, Mrs. Weasley," he said as he smiled at her.

"Hello, Harry," Mr. Weasley said next, and jokingly added, "I'm glad to see you're in one piece.  Ron can't wait to see you—Ron, Hermione, and Ginny are fixing a 'welcome home' dinner for you at the house.  Hermione's been here for about a week.  She and Ron have been very anxious to see you."

"Yeah.  I've barely survived the summer without being able to talk to them."

An angry look crossed Mrs. Weasley's face.  She didn't care much for the Dursleys and their unfair treatment towards Harry.

"Surely, next summer, Albus Dumbledore won't send you back to that horrible family…  Ah!  Arabella!" Mrs. Weasley said, seeing Mrs. Figg for the first time.

After the two women embraced as old friends do, Mrs. Figg said, "Molly, you know the measures of safety Albus put on that house years ago—Harry couldn't be safer anywhere else!"

With a sigh, Mrs. Weasley conceded, "I know.  I just feel safer when Harry stays with us…"

With a slightly feigned smile, Mrs. Weasley suggested the trio be on their way to the Burrow.

"Yes, you probably should be on your way," Mrs. Figg agreed.  "Goodbye, Harry.  I hope to see you soon."

"Bye, Mrs. Figg.  Thanks for having me stay here."

"Don't mention it.  Now, off you go," she said, handing Harry his bundle of letters.

After a drive (that was considerably shorter than Harry thought it would have been in Uncle Vernon's company car), Harry was finally reunited with the Weasleys.  He walked into the cozy kitchen and could smell the delicious foods.  Ron, Hermione, and Ginny looked exhausted after their food-preparing.

Dinner was a jovial affair.  Harry completely lost himself while he listened to stories of the Weasleys (Fred and George also informed Harry, in confidence, that their business, Weasley Wizard Wheezes, was prosperous—they had invented a new candy called 'Tail Taffy,' which caused the unsuspecting eater to sprout the tail of various animals, depending on the flavor).  Hermione told Harry that she had gone to visit Viktor Krum in Bulgaria.

"…It's simply lovely there.  Viktor spent hours showing me Quidditch maneuvers—"

Ron scoffed, though Hermione chose to ignore him.

"—And I told him about the classes I'm taking.  He asked me about my previous years at Hogwarts, but I felt I couldn't tell him everything.  He didn't like to think I had secrets I was keeping from him…" She drifted off, lost, momentarily, in her thoughts.

"Anyway," she said with a sigh, "Viktor and I agreed we shouldn't see each other romantically anymore.  Logically, it was the best thing to do."

Triumph gleamed in Ron's eyes.  "Really?  Was this Vickie's idea, or yours?" he inquired.

Angrily, Hermione retorted, "As I've told you three times already, that is none of your business, Ron…" and, as an afterthought added, "And don't call him 'Vickie!'"

Ron, wisely, in Harry's opinion, chose not to reply, but he did whisper into Harry's ear, "I've been meaning to catch her off-guard, so she'd answer that…"

After a brief silence, Hermione asked Harry why he'd been allowed—indeed, nearly forced—to stay at the Weasleys.  Harry recounted his conversation with Professor Dumbledore, in which the headmaster of Hogwarts had informed Harry of the events at Azkaban.

"Oh, Harry!  That's horrible!"  Hermione exclaimed.  "But why did you have to stay with your neighbor?"

"Well… Dumbledore said something about Mrs. Figg being my protector, but I don't really understand why I had to stay there.  It was almost like he wanted me to figure something out."

Ron, who had been looking pale, and having remained silent for nearly ten minutes, finally commented on Harry's tale, "Dumbledore—he doesn't think the Death Eaters might be after you, does he?"

"I dunno," Harry said, shifting uncomfortably.  "It's possible, I s'pose.  It's pretty common knowledge that I live with the Dursleys, so I guess the Death Eaters could find me…"

Harry noticed his friend was looking rather ill, so he ventured tentatively, "Ron?  Are you okay?"

Ron swallowed audibly.  Harry knew that Ron feared Voldemort and his supporters more than Harry did, and almost wished he hadn't told him about his discussion with Dumbledore.

"Yeah, it's just… I still can't believe You-Know-Who is back.  I mean, all my life I've been told that I 'wouldn't understand' what it was like all those years, and it just occurred to me that my best mate could be in more danger than anyone could imagine… It's a little scary," Ron explained.

Harry tried smiling confidently, but failed miserably.  Truth be told, Harry was beginning to worry about his involvement with Voldemort as well.

"But you're forgetting," Hermione chimed in, "The _only_ wizard You-Know-Who fears is at Hogwarts!  Dumbledore would _never _let anything happen to you, Harry."

Willing himself to believe Hermione's words, Harry engrossed himself in eating his dessert, only half-listening to George as he recounted his heroic—if somewhat exaggerated—tale of saving a young Ginny from a group of extremely overconfident gnomes.


	3. Truths, Secrets, and Lies Chapter 3

Truths, Secrets, and Lies

**Disclaimer**:

Aside from the plot (and future characters), everything belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.

**Summary**:

Throughout his fifth year at Hogwarts, Harry discovers a paradox that could quite possibly upturn his life.

**A/N**:

This story was formerly called 'Harry Potter and the Lost Year,' however, an alteration in storyline called for a new (better) name.  'Truths, Secrets, and Lies,' however, is going to be extremely different from the 'Lost Year,' especially in later chapters

Chapter 3

Even after the meal was eaten, the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione sat talking; just enjoying the pleasant evening.  Savoring it.  Knowing that any day could bring disaster, and put an end to what little joy they still felt.

The hours flew past as the large group talked well into the night.  It was only when Mr. Weasley remembered he had to work in the morning did the group have to disperse, and go to their respective sleeping quarters.  Though the clock beside Ron's bed read 12:30, Harry found he wasn't tired (however, Ron's snores indicated that he was having no trouble falling into a deep sleep).  After tossing and turning for twenty minutes, Harry decided go to the kitchen and drink a glass of water.

Harry stealthily crept towards the hallway, taking care not to awaken Ron.  Pausing thoughtfully before the door to Ginny's bedroom, Harry imagined Hermione and Ginny sleeping peacefully just inside, and smiled at the thought.

"At least someone should be sleeping," he murmured to himself as he continued to walk towards the stairs.

Making sure to skip the creaky step near the foot of the stair, Harry silently walked past Mr. and Mrs. Weasleys' room and into the kitchen.  Expecting to see a darkened room, Harry was startled to see a glow radiating from a single candle in the room.  Sitting before the candle, seemingly dozing at the moment, happened to be Ginny Weasley.  She woke with a start, and gave Harry a frightened look before she realized that Harry was no Death Eater.

"Oh, hi, Harry… I was just… just reading a bit," she said, scrambling to snatch up a newspaper that was lying on the table beside her.

"Oh… ok," Harry replied, feeling every bit as self-conscious as Ginny.  "I just—er—needed a glass of water."

"Oh.  Well, I really should be going to bed now.  Goodnight Harry," Ginny said quickly, as she scurried nervously out of the room.

Wondering why Ginny was_ really_ downstairs, Harry slowly drank his water.  As if on cue, as soon as Harry had washed his glass, he felt drowsiness sweep over him.  Welcoming slumber, Harry hurried back to his bed in Ron's room.

*~*

Harry suddenly became aware of the fact that sunlight was streaming in through a window and shining on his face.  Annoyed that the sun would dare wake him, Harry pulled his blankets up to cover his face.  Suddenly, out of nowhere, Harry was attacked by a… pillow.

"C'mon mate!" Ron said loudly, attempting to rouse Harry.  "Mum's made breakfast, and she says you're too skinny to skip breakfast."

Smiling at Mrs. Weasley's concern, Harry sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes before pulling on some clean clothes from his trunk and going to eat breakfast.

"Well, it's about time," Mrs. Weasley said good-naturedly.  "Arthur and Percy went to the Ministry early this morning.  Of course, Fred and George are doing who-knows-what.  Honestly, I have no idea what those two are up to these days…"

Ron and Harry grinned at each other.  Both firmly believed Fred and George were either devising a new sort of treat, or testing their Tail Taffy's on a poor, unsuspecting Muggle.

Humming to herself, Mrs. Weasley placed a plate piled with an assortment of breakfast foods before Harry.  "Now eat up," she commanded.  "I can't imagine you've had a decent meal all summer."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Harry answered politely.  "This looks wonderful.  Aren't you going to eat Ron?"

"Naw, I woke up about an hour ago.  Hermione and Ginny are awake too—they're out in the garden talking," He rolled his eyes.  "I just couldn't stand the giggling anymore so I went upstairs to wake you."

Harry finished eating just as Hermione walked into the kitchen with a smiling Ginny.  However, when she spotted Harry, she stumbled, and promptly excused herself.

"Hello, Harry," Hermione greeted him.  Then, to both Harry and Ron, she asked, "So, what's on the agenda for today?"

Harry and Ron followed Hermione out of the kitchen as Harry answered, "Anything.  I'd be content to just sit in the garden watching the gnomes—anything's better than being at the Dursleys'."

Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance before Ron said, "How about a game of Quidditch?  The other day I found an old set of Quidditch balls—they used to be Charlie's.  The bludgers are kind of slow, but that's better, considering it will be harder for them to escape to the Muggle village.  Although, we probably shouldn't use the snitch… it's still pretty quick."

"That sounds great!" Harry exclaimed.  Aside from the Weasleys and Hermione, the thing Harry missed the most over the summer holidays was Quidditch—the wizarding sport played upon broomsticks.

Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered, "Boys."  Then, a bit louder she said, "Every summer it's the same thing—Quidditch, Quidditch, Quidditch.  At least I've finally come to realize how wonderful it is to have a female companion; I'm going to go ask Ginny if she wants to come out and watch you play with me.  I'll also send Fred and George out if they're inside."

She walked back to the house, while Harry and Ron walked towards the Weasleys' field after getting Ron's broomstick and the case of Quidditch balls.  They were flying around the field for ten minutes before Fred, George, Hermione, and Ginny finally showed up.

"It's about time!" Ron exclaimed.  "We'd about given up on you two—we were about to begin our own game."

"Yeah, well, if you and Harry don't want to play by yourselves, it might be in your best interests to show my associate and myself a little respect," George said jokingly.

"Eh, get up here!"  Ron replied.

"No problem," Fred said, kicking off the ground, and promptly stealing the quaffle from Ron.  Planted firmly on the ground, Hermione and Ginny giggled.

"And the game begins!" George cried jovially.

The Quidditch game lasted for two hours before Hermione finally called it quits.  "Come on, you two," she said, referring to Harry and Ron.  "Though it may be quite enjoyable to _play_ Quidditch for two hours, it's no picnic for Ginny and myself.  I apologize if we don't find you all fascinating to watch."

Grudgingly, the foursome landed on the ground, only just realizing how hungry they really were.  The group of six began walking towards the house, when Ron sprinted ahead, stopped, and sprinted back.

"Come _on_, Hermione.  You may find it _fascinating_ to know flobberworms are passing you by as you walk to the house, but some of us are _hungry._" Ron mocked as he grabbed a laughing Hermione's hand and jogged towards the house, dragging her behind him.

Harry noticed as Fred, George, and Ginny roll their eyes in unison.

"They've been doing this since Hermione got here," Fred informed Harry.

"Hermione got here before you did, you know," George elaborated.  "They've been skirting around admitting their true feelings."

Ginny piped in, "It's obvious how Ron feels about her—did you notice the foul mood he's been in since Hermione sent the letter that said she was in Bulgaria?" she said, more to Fred and George than Harry.

Fred and George laughed, but Harry frowned as he wondered what would happen to the trio if Ron and Hermione became… more than friends.  Forcibly pushing the thought from his mind, Harry joined Ginny as she laughed at the twins as they imitated Ron and Hermione.

As Harry, Fred, George, and Ginny joined Hermione and Ron in the Weasley kitchen for lunch, Harry began to notice the subtly affectionate manners Ron and Hermione shared—their secret smiles and innocently brushing past one another.  Feeling somewhat like a third-wheel, Harry decided to give them a bit of time alone.  Maybe they'd finally admit their feelings to each other.

"Whew," Harry said after he finished his meal, "That Quidditch match made me more tired than I realized—I think I'm just going to go upstairs and rest for a while."

"Are you okay, Harry?" Ron said worriedly.

"Oh yeah, I'm great—just exhausted," Harry answered, and added a confident smile.  "Just do me a favor and wake me up before dinner.  I don't think your mum would want me to miss a meal…"

"All right, mate," Ron conceded, and returned Harry's smile.

"Bye, Harry," Hermione said cheerfully.

"Bye," Harry called as he walked towards the stairway, not knowing that Ginny was watching him suspiciously.

Once in Ron's room, Harry lay sprawled on his mattress, trying to sleep.  However, it soon became apparent that sleep would not be coming easily.  He had far too much on his mind.  Harry mentally kicked himself for not realizing Ron's feelings for Hermione sooner.  Now, it was painfully obvious—the miniature Krum arm, snapped off the figurine; Ron, as he sulked through most of the Ball last school year; as well as Ron's triumphant response to Hermione's announcement that she and Krum would not be seeing each other any longer…  It all added up perfectly.  Harry also wondered, again, what would happen to their friendship.  Would he feel like a third-wheel all the time?  Not enjoying that thought overly much, Harry decided to stop wasting his time pretending he'd be able to fall asleep.  Instead of joining Hermione and Ron (who were probably quite content with each others' company), Harry decided to read Quidditch Through the Ages for about the hundredth time.

After reading for a few hours, Harry had the distinct feeling that he was being watched.  He glanced up suddenly, and saw Ginny standing in the doorway.

"Sorry for disturbing you," she said, looking sheepishly at her feet.

Harry smiled reassuringly.  "Oh don't worry about it—I've really just been sitting up here to give Ron and Hermione some time alone…"

Nodding knowingly, Ginny answered, "Yeah, I know just how you feel.  Um…  I just came up here to tell you that Mum is 'requesting your presence' downstairs.  I think she wants to ask you something."

"Oh ok… Thanks.  I'll be down shortly," Harry answered as he moved to put away his book.

Worrying about just what Mrs. Weasley wanted to discuss with him, Harry tread to the living room where Mrs. Weasley sat reading _Witch Weekly_, waiting for Harry.  She smiled as she looked up at him.

"Have a seat, Harry," she said.  "No need to look so grave, Harry, this is nothing so serious."

Relief swept over Harry, and was immediately replaced with curiosity.

"I thought we could discuss your birthday party…  You'll be fifteen this year.  You don't turn fifteen every day!"

Guiltily, Harry said, "Oh, Mrs. Weasley, you don't have to do that—"

"Nonsense, dear.  Bill and Charlie are coming by the Burrow this weekend, and I thought we could just make an affair of it all.  We have three days to plan everything…" She continued for nearly half an hour asking Harry to tell her his favorite foods and cake, leaving Harry feeling both overwhelmed and extremely content—his first real birthday.  He then had a sinking feeling as he realized his godfather, Sirius Black, wouldn't be able to spend his birthday with Harry at the Burrow.

Harry walked outside to find Ron and Hermione, who were sitting beneath a tree, looking solemn.

"Harry!" Hermione called as she leapt to her feet.  "Ginny told us Mrs. Weasley had to discuss something with you…" She paused, obviously hoping Harry would explain what had happened.

Despite himself, Harry grinned, "She wants to throw me a birthday party."

Harry could see the tension on Ron and Hermione's faces ease as their faces broke into smiles.

"Oh that's great, Harry… We were so worried," Hermione said.

"All right!" Ron exclaimed, evidently forgetting his concern.  "A party… That's great.  Have you told Fred and George yet?  No doubt they'll want to think up some way to disrupt the festivities—" 

Hermione scoffed.

"Honestly, Hermione!  You can't have a Weasley birthday party without having a Fred and George prank…"

"Oh come on, Ron.  They wouldn't do anything to Harry!"

Not wanting to watch an argument unfold, Harry excused himself.  Casting one last look at the bickering duo, Harry shook his head, and went inside to continue reading Quidditch Through the Ages.

The next few days passed quietly as the entire household waited for July 31st, when they would be celebrating Harry's birthday.

"Oi, Harry!"

Harry practically fell out of bed.  "What?!"

"It's your _birthday_, Harry!  Get up!"

Harry stumbled after Ron, and entered the kitchen.  "Happy Birthday, Harry!" chorused the eight Weasleys (excluding Ron—Bill and Charlie had, evidently, arrived at the Burrow that morning) and Hermione.

Grinning from ear to ear, Harry answered, "Wow thanks!" and then took in his surroundings.  On the table there sat all of Harry's favorite breakfast foods, and on the counter near the sink Harry saw a small pile of gifts.  Mrs. Weasley led the group outside, where she and Mr. Weasley had placed a table seating eleven in the garden.  Shooing a gnome that was attempting to pull a chair away from the table, she began placing platters of food in the center of the table.

"Well, have a seat," she said happily.

Harry sat sandwiched between Ron and Hermione as he listened to the conversations being held by everyone at the table and ate breakfast, which lasted for nearly an hour.

"Oh, Harry," Mr. Weasley said, signaling the end of the meal, "Before you open your gifts, we have a small surprise for you… Come into the kitchen for a moment, if you please."

Bewildered, Harry followed him.  What he saw in the kitchen left him speechless.  Finally able to control his vocal chords, Harry exclaimed, "_Sirius_!"


	4. Truths, Secrets, and Lies Chapter 4

Truths, Secrets, and Lies

**Disclaimer**:

Aside from the plot (and future characters), everything belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.

**Summary**:

Throughout his fifth year at Hogwarts, Harry discovers a paradox that could quite possibly upturn his life.

**A/N**:

This story was formerly called 'Harry Potter and the Lost Year,' however, an alteration in storyline called for a new (better) name.  'Truths, Secrets, and Lies,' however, is going to be extremely different from the 'Lost Year,' especially in later chapters.

**Second A/N**:

I didn't post a 'thank you' section (which is at the bottom) until this chapter because I basically posted all of these at once…  Yes, I *know* that isn't a good reason to do such a thing, but until such a time that someone creates a better one for me, that's what I'm sticking to!

Chapter 4

The face of the wanted "murderer," and Harry's godfather, Sirius Black, appeared in the fireplace of the Weasley's kitchen.

"Happy birthday, Harry," Sirius said, smiling.

"Sirius, it's great to see you… but… how are you…?"

Finishing his sentence, Sirius said, "How am I able to be using a wizard's fireplace?  Dumbledore arranged it for me—right now I'm at Arabella Figg's house on—er—business.  She's being gracious enough to let me use her fireplace.  Unfortunately, I won't be able to talk with you very long…

"Did you get my package?"

Harry glanced at Mrs. Weasley, who answered, "Yes, Sirius.  Hedwig arrived quite early this morning—"

"Hedwig's back?" Harry broke in.  "Er—sorry.  I've just been worried about her…"

"That's fine, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, smiling kindly at Harry.  "I put Hedwig in her cage and gave her food and water."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, feeling overwhelmingly appreciative of her generosity.  He then spoke to Sirius, trying to make light conversation, "So, Sirius, how have you been this summer?"

Despite the nonchalant manner in which the question had been asked, Harry received a wholly honest answer from Sirius.  His face turning deadly serious, Sirius answered, "Not so good, Harry.  As you know, I'm doing a bit of—ah—recruiting for Dumbledore, but it's not going so well.  Some of the witches and wizards are a little more skeptical of the idea since the Death Eaters and Dementors escaped Azkaban."

Harry's hopes plummeted.  Though he didn't know all the details concerning Sirius' task, he had enough sense to know that Dumbledore had been planning something to counter the Dark Lord.  Such an undertaking would be difficult with Voldemort's scant support, but add his most loyal followers to the equation?  A grim situation had just been made even more daunting; Harry could understand the fear the witches and wizards felt.  "What about Lupin?" Harry asked.  "Is he going to help?"

Remus Lupin had been Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher during his third year.  He had, by far, been the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher he had ever had.  Lupin had also helped Harry in ways that showed that Lupin took his job above and beyond the requirements usually in place for teachers.  Sirius, who also happened to be Lupin's friend since their days at Hogwarts, knew and understood Harry's bond with Lupin.

Sirius smiled as he answered, "Yes, it took little argument from my side to convince him to help.  He's always been firmly against Voldemort and his ways, and was all too eager to take part in Dumbledore's mission."

Harry nodded to show his understanding before asking an inevitable question, "Sirius, do you think I'm in danger?"

The expression on his face showed Harry everything he needed to know.  Sirius seemed torn between telling Harry the truth and telling him what he wanted to hear.  Eventually, Sirius was compelled to tell Harry the truth.  "Yes, Harry.  I hate to tell you this, but I fear you are in danger." He smiled sheepishly as he continued, "In fact, that was one of my ulterior motives for wishing you 'happy birthday' in person—I needed to see you.  The sad truth is that I don't know whom to trust anymore.  I fear we will revert to the days over fifteen years ago and the terror that forever lay coiled inside every man, woman, and child.  Hard times are upon us, Harry," Sirius finished, with a look of solemnity upon his face that Harry had never seen before.  "I'm sorry I can't stay longer, but I must be going.  Arabella and I have business to attend to.  Don't hesitate to write me when anything peculiar happens, Harry.  Goodbye," he said as his face faded from the fire.

"'Bye, Sirius," Harry said gloomily.

Harry had forgotten Mrs. Weasley was still standing alongside him until she leaned over and gave Harry an encouraging squeeze.  "Don't worry, dear.  Not today.  Today is a day for celebration—it's your fifteenth birthday!"

He couldn't help but smile.  Mrs. Weasley had been like the mother he had never known to Harry.  She comforted and encouraged him as though he had been her own son.  "Thanks, Mrs. Weasley.  I think I'm going to try to find Ron and Hermione."

"Off you go, then, dear."

*~*~*

Harry found Ron and Hermione sitting beneath a tree in the back yard, bickering playfully.  They stopped, however, when the saw Harry's subdued expression.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Ron asked, jumping to his feet.

Hermione used her eyes to implore Harry to explain his unhappy demeanor.

Harry looked from Hermione to Ron, and licked his lips before explaining his conversation with Sirius.

Ron's brow was furrowed by the time Harry had finished, and Hermione said nervously, "He must be really nervous, Harry, if he came to see you at the Burrow."

Trying desperately to make light of the situation, Harry explained, "Well, he didn't actually _come_ to the Burrow…  He just came in the fire.  He came to wish me Happy Birthday…"

Both Ron and Hermione still looked skeptical, but decided not to comment on Harry's statement.  Instead Ron motioned Harry inside so he could open his gifts.  He first opened his gift from Ron, which ended up being a Chuddley Cannon poster.  

"Wow," Harry breathed as he watched the team zoom through the picture.  "Thanks Ron!"

"No problem, mate.  It's about time I recruited you to become a Cannon fan," Ron said grinning.  Harry couldn't help but grin back.

From Hermione, he received a handsome leather-bound book encrusted with several semi-precious stones.  The title read, Charming the Auror, a Beginner's Guide to Charms Against the Dark Arts.

Before Harry could even express his thanks, Hermione said, "I just thought this book sounded marvelous, Harry." her cheeks had a slight tinge of pink as she continued, "I knew last year you were pretty interested in Aurors, and thought this might be a helpful book for you…"

"It's great, Hermione."  Lightly, he added, "I've read Quidditch Through the Ages too many times anyway."

She beamed at him.

Hagrid's package contained several photographs of his parents ('to add to yer photo album I gave yeh yer firs' year') and several kind of candy.  He had also included a letter that explained his and Madame Maximes' attempts to recruit the giants to oppose Lord Voldemort.  Nonchalantly, Harry slipped the letter to Ron and Hermione, and Harry watched relief wash over their faces as they read the positive letter from their friend and teacher.

Finally, Harry opened the gift from Sirius.  What he saw laying in the small box left him stunned for several moments.  Lying delicately in the soft box were two rings.  Harry knew without reading Sirius' letter that he was looking at the wedding bands of his mother and father.  Nevertheless, Harry opened the letter with shaking hands.

"Dear Harry,

Happy Birthday!  I hope to see you on your birthday (though not actually in person)," Harry smiled, and continued.  "I have been holding these rings in my Gringotts vault since the night I saw the ruins of your home fourteen years ago.  The bands were made of a magical substance, and were not destroyed that fateful night.  Your mother believed these bands held a certain power, but I cannot be sure of such a claim.

Dumbledore has seen that I be well protected.  Please write when you can!

Sirius"

Harry neatly folded the letter before gazing fondly again at the two rings.  Deciding that there would be few things that meant more to him than his parents' wedding rings, Harry smiled, feeling completely content for the first time since his last encounter with Voldemort.

*~*~*

The next weeks at the Burrow passed without incident.  The four Weasleys attending Hogwarts, plus Harry and Hermione, ventured to Diagon Alley to purchase their school supplies, and Fred and George began scouting for a location for their future business, Weasley Wizard Wheezes.  No matter how much Harry had begun to enjoy his holiday, September first crept ever nearer.

The night before the start of the term was chaotic, to say the least.  When she had been packing extra socks in Fred and George's trunks, Mrs. Weasley discovered a Weasley Wizard Wheezes product, and had unleashed a stream of fury the likes of which Harry had never seen.  However, she calmed down when she finished searching every conceivable area for more tricks, but could find nothing but one Ton Tongue Taffy.  Harry had wondered absently to himself where the duo had stashed their jokes and tricks.

"I do _not_ want to receive one single letter about your antics," Mrs. Weasley had fumed.  "If you get into trouble just _one time_ don't you dare expect me to pity you and help you worm your way out of expulsion.  This is your _final_ year of Hogwarts.  There is absolutely _no_ excuse for your behavior.  Now, before you finish packing, I want the garden to be de-gnomed."

"But, _MUM_!" Fred and George retorted in unison.  

"We have to pack for Hogwarts!" Fred said.

"You have to de-gnome the garden," Mrs. Weasley said, unrelenting.

"We need sleep!  It's nearly dark now!" George argued.

"That's it," Mrs. Weasley said exasperatedly.  "The puffapod plants are getting out of hand as well.  Not only are you two going to de-gnome the garden, but you are going to pull every puffapod plant out of the ground, and don't you drop one seed—I don't want two hundred _new_ puffapods out there!  Now, scoot!"

Harry had the good sense to make himself scarce while Mrs. Weasley continued her tirade.  He finished packing and sought out Ron and Hermione for a bit of companionship so he could enjoy his final day of the summer holidays.

This, however, proved more difficult that he had imagined.  Ron and Hermione, most definitely, had intended not to be found—they were sitting on a blanket in the field they had played Quidditch so many times.  They were also holding hands.  Harry sighed.  As he didn't wish to eavesdrop, he turned back around and walked to the Weasleys' crooked house.

Smiling, Harry ran his fingers through his messy black locks of hair, and gazed at the house.  The Burrow had been the only true home he had ever known, even if he had only lived here a month out of the year.  Still smiling, Harry resolved to find his Charming the Auror book in his trunk.  However, his plans were altered as he noticed a petite, red-haired figure struggling with an enormous trunk.

"Oh!" Harry exclaimed, rushing to help Ginny.  "Let me help you, Ginny," he said, grasping one end of the heavy trunk.

Ginny blushed deep scarlet, but accepted the offer of help graciously, "Thanks, I'm not sure I could have made it down the stairs in one piece…"

Harry grinned, and asked, "Where do you need to take this?"

Puzzled, Ginny looked around the small entry hall for a place to put the large trunk.  Then, after blushing an even darker red, she sheepishly admitted, "Oh dear, there's no room down here!  I guess it's going to have to go back upstairs…"

"No problem," Harry said as he began to lead the way up the stairs.  "At least you don't have to climb as many stairs as Ron," he joked.

Ginny finally began to lose her timidity as she answered, "Yes, well, eventually we became annoyed by the sounds of him listening to Chuddley Cannon Quidditch matches on his obnoxious radio.  Plus, we felt it would be for the best if he befriended the ghoul.  Really, though, the only way we could keep our sanity was to stash him in the farthest corner of the house."

Harry laughed deeply and Ginny grinned at him.  Immediately, however, she again became bashful.  "Well, here we are," she said awkwardly.  "Thanks for the help."

"Sure.  Well, I'm going to go break up Ron and Hermione."

Ginny nodded knowingly.  "Were they in the Quidditch field?"

"How'd you guess?"  He answered her question with a question.

Shrugging, she replied vaguely, "Just a guess…"

**'Thank You' To**:             

**WhetherRose**:  I cannot thank you enough for you kind and helpful reviews!  The help and encouragement you give me are invaluable.  Whenever I post a new chapter, I always look forward to reading your reviews (or just re-reading your story :) ).  Whenever I someone leaves such specific and genuine reviews to help me, I feel that my story/chapter is more worthwhile.  I love that you appreciate my reviews as much as I do your.  I can't wait to see that you've updated your story (you know, I think it should be illegal for great stories to have cliffhangers… Just kidding).  Thank you a million times over!

**Babyphatcat13**:  I believe you are my most supportive supporter (talk about redundant).  Had it not been for you, I'm sure I would have abandoned the 'Harry's Revenge' project.  The praise you give me has many-a-time lifted my spirits!  Thank you so much!

**T.H**:  Like WhetherRose, your reviews have proven very insightful.  You notice things I try to discreetly emphasize (sure, that's something of an oxymoron, but, to me, it makes sense ;) ).  You did a marvelous job reviewing the Tale of Tom Riddle.  Thank you so much - your reviews are very appreciated more than you'll ever know!

**Hollie**:  Thank you for the review – I can't wait until you update the 'Fire Hawk' again…  I want my questions answered, so get a move on it (only joking, of course)!

**Also, Thanks To**:  Lauren Graham, Sara Minks, Lauren, Oceansun, and VyingQuill!  Your reviews are all greatly appreciated!


	5. Truths, Secrets, and Lies Chapter 5

Truths, Secrets, and Lies

**Disclaimer**:

Aside from the plot (and future characters), everything belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.

**Summary**:

Throughout his fifth year at Hogwarts, Harry discovers a paradox that could quite possibly upturn his life.

**A/N**:

This story was formerly called 'Harry Potter and the Lost Year,' however, an alteration in storyline called for a new (better) name.  'Truths, Secrets, and Lies,' however, is going to be extremely different from the 'Lost Year,' especially in later chapters.  If you haven't yet, you may want to re-read [at least] the first two chapters, because they are quite a bit different than they were originally.

Chapter 5

It was with a heavy heart that Harry bade farewell to his late-summer residence.  However, he knew that once he stepped upon the scarlet Hogwarts Express he would truly be on his way home.

With a jolt, however, Harry was brought back to reality.

"FRED!" Ginny squealed.  "That is _my_ journal –"

"Virginia Weasley!  What journal is this?" Mrs. Weasley suddenly interjected.

Irritably, Ginny rolled her eyes, "Don't worry, mum, it's just a Muggle diary I bought over the summer."

"When did you go to a Muggle shop?" Mrs. Weasley asked incredulously.

"When I went to the stationary shop…" Ginny prompted, but continued at the quizzical look her mother was still giving her, "To buy you the fancy paper you needed for your Witches Against the Rise of the Dark Arts club meeting!"

Relief washed over Mrs. Weasley's face, "Oh yes!  Of course, dear; I'm just a bit more nervous than I usually am…"

George scoffed at this comment, but Mrs. Weasley chose not to reply.  Instead, she said, "Well, it looks as though everything is packed in the Ministry cars.  Oh my stars – it's nearly time to leave!"  She began to herd her children plus Harry and Hermione outside to the jade-colored cars waiting in the street.

As the group entered platform 9 ¾ at King's Cross Station, Mrs. Weasley wiped her eyes sadly with a handkerchief.  She hugged and kissed each of her children, and then hugged both Hermione and Harry.

"Do be careful," she said simply to Harry as she gave him a squeeze.

"I'll try, Mrs. Weasley," he answered truthfully.

After much ado, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were finally seated in their compartment on the Hogwarts Express, and were waving to Mrs. Weasley as the train started to pull away.

As the trio finally slid into their seats, they were startled as the compartment door opened.

"Shove _off_, Malfoy!" Ron began maliciously, but then continued quickly, "Ginny!  I'm so sorry –"

Harry watched the petite redheaded figure emerge from the doorway, and listened as she said with a smile, "Er – I'm afraid you are wrong again – I don't know any 'Ginny's…"

Harry and Ron gaped at the girl standing before them, but Hermione took action.  She shot a quick glare at both Harry and Ron, and extended a hand to the girl, and said brightly, "Hi!  I'm Hermione Granger.  Are you new to Hogwarts?"

Smiling gratefully, the girl answered in a heavy French accent, "'Ello.  I'm Lamya Meda, and yes, I am new to 'Ogwarts – I had to transfer from Beauxbatons this year."  Though Lamya was slight of build, she informed the trio that she would be a sixth year at Hogwarts (or "'Ogwarts", as she said).  She carefully pushed a lock of her cascading red hair behind her ear before she continued.  "I 'ave always found 'Ogwarts to be fascinating.  Though I was adopted, my mother told me that my parents were both British.  A bit ironic that my father suddenly got transferred to the British Ministry of Magic, no?"

"Do you know much about Hogwarts?" Hermione inquired (both Harry and Ron were still gaping at Lamya in disbelief).

"No, I don't.  I know zat there are four 'ouses, but I do not understand zis system of 'ouses."

"Oh!  It's easy enough to understand – there are four houses named after their founders:  Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin.  Harry, Ron, and myself are all in Gryffindor, but each house values different traits, so the Sorting Hat decides what house you are put in based on your personality," Hermione explained.

"Excuzes moi, but what is ze 'Sorting 'at?"  Lamya asked innocently.

"The Sorting Hat once belonged to Goderic Gryffindor – our house is his namesake – and he created it so that there would be a system to choose students for each house after he and the other founders died.  Really, it was a brilliant idea."

"Zat is fascinating!" Lamya exclaimed.

At that proclamation, Ron rolled his eyes, and said in an undertone to Harry, "Looks like Hermione has found a new best friend…"

Though Harry smiled to Ron, he was barely able to tear his eyes away from Lamya.  Something about her seemed familiar; as though she were an old friend Harry had almost forgotten…

*~*~*

Just as the blue of the sky was beginning to succumb to the dreariness of dusk, the Hogwarts Express pulled into the Hogsmeade station.  Ron clamored into the horseless carriage that was to take the returning students to Hogwarts (though Lamya was also allowed to come, as she would be a sixth year) still reveling the moment on the train that Draco had made his appearance in Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Lamya's compartment.  Draco had shoved smugly into the compartment, followed closely by Crabbe and Goyle, and promptly lost his composure when he laid eyes on Lamya.  Harry had to admit that he, too, had noticed Lamya's enchanting stormy gray eyes and fiery hair.  However, Harry hadn't stood like a speechless fool as Crabbe and Goyle stood menacingly behind him.

"Did you _see_ the git blunder about trying to form coherent sentences?"  Ron asked gleefully.

"Yes, yes, he was very enamored with Lamya…  Can we please talk about something else now?" Hermione beseeched.

Harry followed Hermione's gaze as it shift to Lamya's face, and Harry was surprised to see that she look rather uncomfortable.  For the first time, she spoke about the incident.

"You don't the 'e really found me… attractive, do you?" she asked, clearly hoping for a response of the negative variety.  "'E was – 'ow do you say? – creepy…"

Even Hermione laughed at her frankness, but she felt she had to be truthful to her newfound friend.  "I'm afraid he did seem a bit – er – infatuated with you," she said warily.

Lamya's face fell considerably, but she squared her shoulders, and quietly accepted her fate; Harry laughed inwardly.

After a few moments, the foursome leapt out of the carriage, and walked to the castle and into the Great Hall.

"Well, I will see you all soon, I 'ope!"  Lamya said confidently, biding the trio farewell, and looking out of place as she joined the group of nervous-looking first years who had congregated outside the Great Hall.

*~*~*

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat heavily down at Gryffindor table anxious for Lamya.  As far as the trio was concerned, the girl belonged in Gryffindor.

"Oi!  I hope we can eat soon," Ron exclaimed as he looked longingly at the golden plate before him.

Hermione elbowed him in the ribs and hissed, "Ron!  Lamya's about to be sorted, and all you can think about is your stomach?"

Just as Ron was about to retort, Professor McGonagall walked into the Great Hall, and sat the Sorting Hat and stool before the long table at which the teachers sat.  At once, the murmur of people talking silenced, and the Hat broke into song:

Long, long ago in centuries past,

When the Hogwarts four did meet.

They thought to build a school at last

That taught of magical feats.

Each had a house formed in his own name

That valued different traits.

The founders sorted the children that came,

And left the rest up to fate.

Gryffindor favored the gallant,

While Hufflepuff preferred the kind.

Ravenclaw wanted the talented,

Slytherin chose those cunning of mind.

When, at last, they thought their work was done,

One question still remained:

Who would choose the lucky ones

When they had passed away?

Gryffindor then had a thought,

That this hat could do the dividing.

And that's when I was magically taught

To do all the sorting and deciding.

So, now please don't hesitate,

To place me on your head.

I'll tell you where you will make

All of your best friends.

Hufflepuff or Gryffindor,

Ravenclaw or Slytherin,

I know that you'll adore

Whatever house I put you in!

The Great Hall burst into applause as the occupants in the room marveled that the Hat had been able to create yet another unique song.

After the end of the Sorting Hat's song, Professor McGonagall immediately began to call off the names of the first years.  From Akkenly, Ursula to Yalta, Thomas, she called the names, and proceeded to roll up her bit of parchment.  She jumped in surprise when she saw the lone Lamya standing proud and straight before the befuddled crowed of Hogwarts Students, and then turned to gaze expectantly at Professor Dumbledore.

"Ah, yes!  Lamya, my dear…" He said, his eyes twinkling.  "Everyone, I am pleased to present to you one of the few transfer students who have graced the halls of Hogwarts.  Madame Maxime, whom many of you will remember from last year's Triwizard Tournament, recommended Miss Lamya Meda personally," Dumbledore then paused, and seemed to glance fleetingly at Harry.  However, he couldn't be sure, because just as quickly as he had paused, he began to speak again, "Miss Meda will be starting as a sixth year at Hogwarts, and I trust you will all make it a pleasant year for her."

He smiled kindly at the blushing Lamya, and said softly, "You may now be sorted, Lamya."

Harry watched Lamya swallow hard, and nod her head resolutely as she proceeded to place the tattered hat upon her head.

After several moments, when nothing but a pressing silence filled the room, people began to lose their patience for the girl preventing them eating.  It was nearly ten minutes before Lamya stirred.  She began to squirm uncomfortably, and Harry heard a barely-perceptible sob escape her lips.

Finally, the Sorting Hat could be heard over the many rambunctious voices;  "SLYTHERIN!" It proclaimed, causing Harry, Hermione, and Ron to gape in confusion.

Lamya trudged to the Slytherin table.  Looking like a whipped animal, she sat down with her new housemates, and cast petrified glances at her peers.  Then, upon noticing the worried looks from Harry, Ron, and Hermione, she gave what she hoped would be a confident grin, and began to eat her now-tasteless dinner.

*~*~*

The first week of the new term was hectic for all the fifth years—the teachers hadn't forgotten that fifth years took their O.W.L.s this year, and had started the year by assigning hours of homework for the hapless students to fumble through.

"I can't _do_ this!" Ron exclaimed in frustration as he through his quill upon his Divination homework.

"Shh!" Madam Pince spat at Ron from across the library.

Ron glared daggers at her, but lowered his voice as he said, "I'm pretty near being sick of this Divination crap – "

"_Ron_!" Hermione said, as she jabbed a finger at the prefect badge she wore pinned to her sweater.  In the very last days of the summer holidays, Hermione had received the news that she would be a Prefect (with a lengthy letter of apology from Professor McGonagall, who had sent her letter to Hermione's house first before she realized that Hermione was with the Weasleys).  "I can't just let you get away with anything you want just because we're friends, you know!" She continued as Ron said simultaneously (completely ignoring Hermione):

"How does that old bat expect us to make up our futures three years in a row?"

"She _doesn't_, Ron!" Hermione interjected, her face flushing.  "She expects everyone to 'foretell the future' as well as she does," she ended sarcastically rolling her eyes.  "Honestly why don't you just drop that subject like I did?"  It was common knowledge that Hermione Granger was one of the few students who had never been enraptured by the misty-voiced Sibyll Trelawney.  Divination was one of the few subjects Hermione had forfeited during her extremely hectic third year.

Rom looked as though he was about to reply, but it soon became apparent to Harry that Ron was only opening and closing his mouth, unable to find the words to retort to Hermione.  Harry thought he looked rather like a fish gasping for water.  Finally, Ron looked away from Hermione's bushy-haired head, for, Hermione had long since returned to her studies, and resignedly returned to his Divination.

When a heart-stopping, unanticipated crash suddenly disrupted the stillness of the library, Harry looked up in time to see Ron knock over his bottle of ink, and Hermione's rolls of parchment flutter to the floor as they both jumped out of their seats.  In the blink of an eye, Harry strode over to the nearest shelves of books, silently pulling out his wand.  He was unaware, however, that he was being closely trailed by Ron and Hermione, so when he stopped abruptly, Ron caused him to tumble to floor and land next to the originator of the noise.

Sitting in the midst of a large pile of books sat Lamya, the color of her face nearly matching the roots of her fiery hair.

Exasperatedly, she exclaimed, "I am such a klutz!  Zis just _'ad_ to 'appen to me!"  She quickly leapt to her feet, and began roughly pushing the spilled books onto their respective shelf.

Confidently, Harry spoke to Lamya as he, Ron, and Hermione began to help Lamya sort out her dilemma, "Don't worry about it, Lamya, I'm sure no body noticed – " However, Harry's sentence was cut short as a claw-like hand intercepted the leather-bound book he was adding to his shelf, and Madam Pince exclaimed angrily:

"This is the second time you lot have been causing trouble!  The three of you are hereby _banned_ from the library!"

Hermione's face paled, and Harry watched as her knees buckled compulsively.  She looked as though she longed to proclaim her innocence, but, in her shock, couldn't even remember how to string a sentence together.

It was Lamya who came to the trio's rescue.

Though her head was lowered to the floor, and her gray eyes, were closed in shame, Lamya spoke clearly, "'Arry, Ron, and Hermione didn't do zis, Madam Pince – I did.  I was trying to reach a book, and it was on to 'igh of a shelf for me to reach safely…"

Madam Pince looked disapprovingly at Lamya, but her face had lost its stony look.  Her voice, however, was as sharp as ever, "What did you say your name is?"

"Lamya Meda…  I – I transferred 'ere from Beauxbatons…"

"Ah, _you're_ the new girl.  Professor Dumbledore assured me you'd be no trouble," Madam Pince looked skeptically at the cowering girl.  "I'm going to have to report this disturbance.  However, as long as Professor Dumbledore doesn't require it, I won't assign you detention… this time.  You _will_, however, clean this mess."

With those final words, Madam Pince swept as fast as her small, elderly frame would take her out of the library; no doubt, she was upholding her promise to inform the headmaster.

Lamya's eyes spoke all the thanks Harry, Ron, and Hermione needed as hey finished putting away the dusty volumes of books.  "Zank you for your 'elp," Lamya said.  "I am so sorry she zought you 'ad made zis mess."

"Don't mention it," Ron said, casually waving away the expression of gratitude.  "We were just glad you weren't You-Know-Who."

Hermione elbowed him in the ribs, "Don't even joke about that, Ron!"

Disbelievingly, Ron raised his hands towards the ceiling, "Who was joking?  I _didn't_ what Lamya to be You-Know-Who!"

This, of course, launched Ron and Hermione into one of their all-too-common arguments.  Harry and Lamya looked on, amused.  "Are zey always like zis?" Lamya whispered to Harry.

With feigned solemnity, Harry nodded.  Lamya was unable to suppress a giggle.  Harry thought he heard the barely-perceptible noise of flesh brushing against leather, but, when he glanced quickly up and down the aisle, he concluded his senses must just be hyper-sensitive due the he stress he had suffered in the past five minutes.

As soon as Ron and Hermione had abandoned their argument, and continued to the phase of fervent silence, the group made their way out of the library – Hermione striding ever-ahead of the group as she angrily gripped her stack of books to her chest, hair and cloak billowing behind her as her brisk walk carried her to Gryffindor tower.  Harry and Lamya were walking together, shaking their heads sadly as they watched Ron trudge slowly and guiltily behind them, carrying his books disconsolately at his side, not bothering to pick up the bits of parchment with hastily scribbled notes he dropped along the way.

Worry griping her voice, Lamya asked Harry, "Are you sure zey are going to be all right?"

Harry answered her with experienced knowledge:  "Yeah.  Just wait until breakfast tomorrow…"

*~*~*

The next morning, Harry could be found thoughtfully eating his toast, trying to imagine the reason for Ginny's sullen attitude.  Though Ginny usually did her best to craftily be ignored by Harry, this morning her manner had been positively frigid.

"Good morning, Harry," Ginny had greeted him loftily.

"Oh – er – good morning," Harry had answered rather taken aback.  Usually Ginny didn't say a word to Harry.  The most she would do to acknowledge the presence of Harry would be to trip upon catching a glimpse of Harry, and then rush past in a flurry of an intense blush and complementing red hair.  Based on instinct, Harry moved over to allow room for Ginny to sit next to him.  However, she flat-out rejected his nonverbal offer.

"No thanks, _Harry_.  I think I'll sit somewhere else."  Despite her harsh tone, Harry noticed Ginny nervously bite her lip as she realized that there were no other empty seats at the table.  Just as Harry thought Ginny would concede and sit next to him, Ginny smiled triumphantly and moved to fill the seat of Lavender Brown as she and Parvati Patil left the table to get to Divination early.

Dejectedly, Harry found he was no longer hungry.

It was at this moment that Harry spotted Ron and Hermione walk nonchalantly into the Great Hall.  Ron nudged Fred so he and George would make room for Ron and Hermione.

"Hey!  What's the big idea?" Fred said angrily.

"C'mon, can't you just budge over a bit?" Ron asked, his voice just shy of a whine.

"Do _you_ want to be the first sampler of a Tail Taffy, complements of Weasley Wizard Wheezes?"  George asked.

"You wouldn't want to embarrass yourself at Hogwarts, would you?  Or, worse, embarrass poor, hapless Miss Granger?"  Fred added.

"She's _not_ my girlfriend!" Ron said blusterously.  Immediately after finishing his proclamation, the color of his face changed from an impassioned crimson to a sickly green color as he realized his grave mistake.

Fred and George laughed out loud.  "No need to get defensive, chap," George said, slapping Ron jovially on the back.  "We were leaving anyway."  He and Fred proceeded to leave.  Amid their snickers, the phrase 'defensive lover-boy' could be heard.

Ron spent the remainder of breakfast poking morosely at his food with his chin resting miserably in the palm of his hand.  Hermione, however, was passively glowing – apparently, her Arithmancy teacher had been ill since the start of the term, and this would be his first day back to Hogwarts.

"…The substitute Professor Dumbledore found wasn't _nearly_ as knowledgeable about the subject as Professor Vector!  I've already memorized the next three chapters…"

"Why don't _you_ just teach the class, Hermione?" Ron muttered under his breath.

Hermione looked at him, her face aghast.  "How can you even say such a thing?  I have so much to learn…!"

"I was kidding," Ron replied in an irritated voice.

Apparently, emotions from the previous evening were still running high, for Hermione scooped her books in her arms, and exclaimed as she began to walk away from the Gryffindors, "I'm going to the library.  I'll see you in Care of Magical Creatures class."

Ron only shook his head in disbelief, and returned to picking at his food.

*~*~*

When Harry and Ron finally began to make their way towards the North Tower, it was with preoccupied thoughts that they tread the corridors.  In what he hoped would be an off-handed manner, Harry asked Ron, "Do you have any idea what was bothering Ginny this morning?"

"Hm?  Oh, no.  A bad hair day, maybe?"  Ron replied, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to seriously consider the question.  Harry sighed loudly at Ron's obliviousness.

"Ah, back again, are you, you scurvy curs?"  Came a loud voice to the left of Ron.  The voice belonged to none other than Sir Cadogan.

"It's _us_, you lamebrain," Ron said to the knight standing next to a rumpled-looking pony in the midst of a grassy field.

Upon achieving recognition, the short knight said, "Ah, yes, kind sirs!  You were among the Gryffindor chaps I protected two years ago…"

Ron rolled his eyes and replied, "Need I also remind you that you let Sirius Black into our Tower?"

"He had the whole week's worth of passwords!" Sir Cadogan answered brightly.  At this moment, Sir Cadogan was distracted when a pretty woman dressed in medieval garb walked through his painting.  She paused to pat the gray, lounging pony, and shot a flirtatious smile at Sir Cadogan.  The knight completely forgot himself for a moment, but quickly began his attempt at impressing the young woman.  "…Did you hear that I was recently called upon to protect Gryffindor Tower?" Harry and Ron heard him boast as they began to sneak away from the painting.

With seconds to spare, Harry and Ron entered Divination, and made to sit in their usual poufs around a small table near the back of the darkened, sultry room.  They were perplexed to see Lamya sitting self-consciously in one of the chairs surrounding their table.

"Hi, Lamya," Harry said, unable to keep the curiosity from his voice.

"Oh!  'Ello, 'Arry – I didn't know Divination was a subject you were taking as well… I felt very out-of-place – I don't know anyone else in 'ere!"

"Well, if you don't mind me asking, why are you in our class at all?  You're a sixth year… and a Slytherin."

Lamya wrinkled her nose, and muttered, "Not by choice," and quickly continued, "Well, despite what Professor Dumbledore promised me, I was with fifth year Slytherins zis past week – Beauxbatons does not teach Divination, so I 'ad to at least have zis subject with a younger class," She stated.  "Anyway, when I explained to Professor Dumbledore zat ze fifth year classes were not challenging for me, 'e reworked my schedule so, excluding zis class, I am with sixth years.  Even zough I do not feel as zough I belong with Slytherins, it is more comforting to know zat I am with my peers."

Harry nodded in understanding, but, before he could reply, Professor Trelawaney walked into the room, her jewelry tinkling and sparkling in the dim light.

"Today we are going to continue our work with crystal gazing.  The fates have informed me that this tool will prove useful in the fight against the Dark Lord – "

Ron emitted a loud, hacking cough that sounded suspiciously like, 'phony.'

Professor Trelawney, however, continued unperturbed, "As you can see, I have placed an orb on each table – ah!  Lamya, dear, I did not know you had Divination at this time."

"So the fates are feeling particularly talkative, then?" Ron said to Harry in a low voice, causing the duo to painfully suppress the hysterics that threatened to be unleashed.

Lamya shot them the faintest of reproving looks, and said to Professor Trelawney, "Professor Dumbledore 'ad to change my schedule yesterday."

"All right.  Have you ever worked with a crystal ball?"

"Er – no…" Lamya admitted guiltily.

"Well, I'm afraid that does leave you a bit behind, but we must carry on.  Perhaps Miss Patil or Miss Brown can help you…" Professor Trelawney trailed off, apparently forgetting Lamya's lack of Divination training, and moved closer to the fireplace at the front of the room.

"It's these fumes she's inhaling all the time," Ron explained solemnly.

Within a few minutes, Harry and Ron had told Lamya all they "knew" about crystal gazing, and she was willing to give it a try.

Lamya's hands hovered above the crystal ball, and her brow was furrowed in concentration as she tried to see through the swirling mist in the crystal.  Suddenly, Harry saw clandestine figures moving about in the mist.  Astonished, he chanced a glance at Lamya, only to see that she had fallen limp in the chair, though her eyes remained eerily open and glassy.

At once, he exclaimed, "Someone needs to find Madam Pomfrey!"

To be continued…

Second A/N:  "Lamya Meda" is actually neither a French name, nor an English name (although I'm sure you all realized that).  I actually discovered the two names as I was looking at a list of baby names:  one name is Native American (a bit off, but you'll have to work with me), and the other is Arabic.  *Jokes* She must have had very worldly parents.  If you show the initiative, you can find out what her name means, and perhaps gain a bit of insight of her future (*winks*)!  Anyway, I'd appreciate any feedback concerning Lamya – I am trying my best to avoid a Mary Sue, but if it ever seems that she is too perfect, please, don't hesitate to tell me.  Thanks so much for reading this chapter!

'Thank You' To:

**WhetherRose**:  (This is really more of a bit of thanks for your Tom Riddle review… Yeah, so I'm a bit backwards…) I always enjoy your reviews so much!  Really, I can't express my gratitude enough (the best I can do is thank you in every chapter I write :) )!  I wanted to thank you for your support in my writing a chapter to whichever story I wanted to write.  I had thought I would write more of the Tom Riddle story (which I did… but not enough for a full chapter), but I wanted to present Lamya to the world.  Also, I actually *tried* to edit my story before I posted it (it was quite difficult to not post it as soon as I typed the last word), so hopefully you won't have quite as much work correcting my silly errors.  But if you do find any mistakes, please let me know!  I hope this long weekend is good for you – you sound like you deserve it!  No one should be sick when she wants to write more of her fan fiction (and there are those of us on the edge of our seat in anticipation for a new chapter!).  Just remember that we'll always be here waiting for you!

**Babyphatcat13**:  I can always count on you to give me a boost of happiness when I read your reviews – I always appreciate your praise!

**Bonita Knows All**:  *Sigh* as you're my sister, I am pretty sure that you exaggerated a smidge in your praise, but I loved it all the same.  From now on, I'd like to be called J.K., please.  Only joking!  That would be more than a little weird…

**Also, Thanks To**:  Lauren Graham, Hollie, Sara Minks, T.H, Lauren (this story must be quite a "Lauren" attractor…), Oceansun, and VyingQuill – all your reviews are greatly appreciated!  Also, I'd like to give an enormous thank you, **Leeslie778** (here at Fanfiction.net) for allowing me to use your Sorting Hat song in this chapter!  I abhor writing poetry (well, actually, I don't abhor it, but it doesn't seem to like me very much…).  You have no idea how happy I was when you said I could use your poem!  Thanks again, everyone!


	6. Truths, Secrets, and Lies Chapter 6

Truths, Secrets, and Lies

**Disclaimer**:  Anything you recognize (i.e. not Lamya) belongs to Joanne Kathleen Rowling.  Considering I'm broke at the moment, one can assume that I'm getting doodly-squat from this (except, of course, the pleasure of writing it).

**Summary**:  Harry discovers a paradox that could quite possibly upturn his life.

Chapter 6

The room began to spin, and its occupants were blurred to the point they looked like one, conjoined, being.  Abruptly, the spinning stopped, but a new scene met the eyes of Lamya.  She was sitting in the midst of an open field.  Her vision was slightly obscured by the veil of wispy mist that clung to the earth and rocks, not daring to venture into the unknown darkness of the night.

Lamya blinked a few times to clear her mind.  Quickly, she reviewed what had happened.  One moment she had been sitting in Divination, completely encompassed by the heavily perfumed air.  Vaguely she remembered staring blankly into a crystal ball…

At this moment, Lamya's thoughts were completely interrupted.  A throng of shrouded figures filed into the clearing and created a ring around a large rock Lamya hadn't noticed.  Then, to her utter surprise, the rock shuddered enlarged.  With a mixture of relief and trepidation, Lamya realized the rock was a man; and obviously a highly respected man at that – the group collectively bowed their heads in reverence.

Stealthily, and with exercised caution, Lamya used the mist to conceal her movements as she moved closer to the group.

"…You all know why you're here," came the raspy, high-pitched voice of the ringleader.  Despite the cloak of darkness, his eyes flashed an eerie red.  "My recruitments at Hogwarts are few and far between.  Because of _Dumbledore_," he spat, "such practices have become increasingly dangerous."

In the distance, Lamya heard the distant howl of a lone wolf in agony.  Because of the distraction, Lamya tripped and fell in a depression concealed by the shadows.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, unable to contain her surprise.  Once she landed, Lamya cowered in the shadows, anticipating her certain capture.  However, when she remained unharmed and undisturbed, Lamya ventured a glance towards the group of people listening intently to the tall, slim man speaking fervently in the center.

Unable to concentrate on his words, Lamya concentrated instead on her dilemma.  Her eyes swung to the heavens and paused on the serene, silver moon.  Her eyes reflected the perfect circle, and she wondered aloud, "_'Ow am I to get back to 'Ogwarts_?"

Once again, however, Lamya was distracted by the figures as they marched past her.  Silently, she reprimanded herself for being foolish enough to speak out loud.  However, it appeared that she had once again been lucky enough to not be heard.

Immediately after being swept by relief, a peculiar thought occurred to Lamya.  _What if no one can hear me or see me?_  Brow furrowed in concentration, she stood from her hiding spot, and approached the line of gradually disappearing figures.  One figure stopped, quickly stifled a lilting laugh, and knelt to the ground.  Even from a distance, Lamya saw her sparkling eyes, and watched the young woman push her hood to rest at the nape of her neck, and shake her mane of fiery hair behind her shoulders.  In turn, a figure with broader shoulders and a taller frame paused, and turned to the young woman.

"C'mon!  We have to get back to the school.  Don't you know we're not supposed to be out here?" He asked.

Once again, her tinkling laugh filled the air in such away that the very mist seemed to pulsate, and clear from the area.  "Of _course_ I know what we're supposed to do and not to do.  I'm a prefect!"

The young man mumbled something inaudible.

Grudgingly, the red-haired young woman conceded, "Ah, I suppose you're right."  The pair continued towards the glow of what Lamya decided could only be Hogwarts.

A moment of intense silence undulated through the darkness, when the young man asked the question that they had both been debating to ask:

"Are you really going to go through with it?  The initiation?"

The young woman gave no indication she had even heard the query.  Suddenly she answered, "I don't know, Pierre.  I don't suppose there's any going back now, though…"

What may have been spoken next, Lamya didn't hear.  She had stopped dead – her heart racing as she absorbed the conversation.  As soon as she stopped, the sickening feeling of the world rapidly revolving started once again.  Lamya could only squeeze her eyes shut against the motion, and allow herself to be removed from this time and place.

Not wishing to open her eyes to the scenario that may lie before her, Lamya noted her slack body sitting awkwardly in a comfortable chair.  Without opening her eyes, feel a dozen sets of eyes locked on her motionless body.  She realized her classmates were waiting with bated breath for her to make any sign of life.

The sharp clicking of heels could be heard faintly below the room.  With a nearly imperceptible groan of resistance, Lamya heard the trapdoor that led to Professor Trelawney's room swing open.

With more than a hint of alacrity, Madam Pomfrey bustled to Lamya, and checked her pulse.  Deciding that she should no longer uphold her façade of unconsciousness, Lamya slowly opened her eyes.  The scene she beheld was indescribable.  Her classmates wore expressions upon their faces ranging from skepticism, mild curiosity, to blatant worry.  Professor Trelawney, in her own right, stood wringing her hands as she stood in front of Lamya's classmates.  She wore a look upon her face that surprised Lamya.  It was a mixture of longing and jealousy.

Madam Pomfrey tutted as she withdrew her hand from Lamya's wrist.  "Miss Meda, I'm afraid you must come with me to the hospital wing.  Misters Potter and Weasley, will you kindly escort Miss Meda to the hospital wing?  I must speak forthwith with the headmaster.  I will meet you in the hospital wing shortly," she finished curtly, already striding to the trapdoor.

Once they had reached the stillness of the corridors that led away from the North Tower, Ron tentatively asked, "What happened, Lamya?"

Lamya contemplated her answer carefully before responding.  "Somehow, I was transported away from the room…  I spun for the longest time, and finally stopped in a field in total darkness."  She then retold Harry and Ron, with as many details she could remember – much of what she had seen and heard had been forgotten somehow – the events she witnessed.

Though Harry remained reverently silent, Ron spoke, "That – that sounds like…" He swallowed hard, but found he couldn't continue.

"Voldemort," Harry finished simply and quietly.  Ron winced, but nodded in agreement.

Horror contorted Lamya's face.  "But _'ow_?" She implored."

"I dunno," Harry said, looking meaningfully into the worried countenance of Lamya.  "My scar didn't hurt – that usually happens when Voldemort – "

"Will you just say 'You-Know-Who'?" Ron asked through clenched teeth.

" – Is near."

At this point in the conversation, the trio had reached the infirmary.  Madam Pomfrey, clad in her sanitarily white clothes, intercepted Lamya at the door.

"I never would have _imagined_ such dawdling from you, Mister Potter.  You, of all people, should understand the seriousness of her situation," Madam Pomfrey chastised.

Both Harry and Ron chanced disbelieving glances at Lamya, who had had no trouble walking the distance from the North Tower to the hospital wing.

"You need bed rest," Madam Pomfrey confirmed while simultaneously ushering the befuddled Lamya to a bed.  She handed Lamya a pair of pajamas and pulled the curtains that surrounded Lamya's bed shut with a snap.

Lamya's slightly muffled voice could be heard behind the curtain, "But why, Madam Pomfrey?  I think I'm fine – I don't even know what _happened_ to me, but I know I'm not injured…"

"I like to think I'm more of an expert on such matters than you are, Miss Meda," Madam Pomfrey said brusquely.  "And _you_ two," she said, turning menacingly to Harry and Ron, "I would suggest you two go to Gryffindor tower before I decide to take away house points.  Your friend is in dire need of _rest_."

With the last sentence, Lamya had poked her head out between the curtains, and was vigorously shaking her head to disagree with the statement.  Harry and Ron, however, felt it would be in their best interests to abide Madam Pomfrey's 'suggestion,' and decided to concentrate their efforts on finding Hermione, with hopes that she would have answers to their many questions.

Harry and Ron finally found their bushy-haired friend sitting in the Great Hall thoughtfully eating an apple and reading her Arithmancy book.

"Hermione," Harry called to get her attention.  Harry was vaguely aware that Ginny was intently watching Harry intending to disguise her gaze by giving the impression that she was reading her Daily Prophet (which she was holding upside-down).  "Hermione, listen to what happened during Divination…" He began as he recounted Lamya's tale.

However, Hermione remained skeptical.  "Are you _sure_ she didn't just fall asleep?"

"How can you _say_ that, Hermione?" Ron broke in, his face slack in disbelief.

Harry chose to ignore Ron's comment by saying, "If you had just seen her, Hermione…  Her eyes were completely open until just before she snapped out of it – I was with her the whole time!"

Ginny made a slight choking sound and said quietly to Ron, who had turned to his sister with a look of concern upon his face, "Sorry – wasn't ready for that swallow."  Ginny then excused herself as Ron nodded, and returned to Harry and Hermione's conversation.

At Harry's last comment, Hermione cocked her head to one side, "Really?  And you said she went completely limp?"  Harry nodded to affirm her question.  "Harry, you're not going to believe this, but I think we have a Seer in Hogwarts."

"Really?  Who?" Ron asked.  Forthwith, however, he flushed as he noticed his friends' two pairs of eyes swing incredulously in his direction.  "Oh yeah… sorry," he mumbled.

*~*~*

The next morning found Hermione studying in the library for Charms.  Carefully, she sifted through the immense volumes lining the shelves.  Finally finding one with which she was satisfied, Hermione headed back to her usual table.  However, when she neared her table, she saw someone already sitting there amid a pile of books.  "Ginny?" Hermione whispered to herself.

"No, I'm afraid not," Lamya said, her upturned face showing that her luminous eyes were looking at Hermione.

Abashedly, Hermione apologized, "I'm sorry, Lamya…  I'm so accustomed to seeing _Ginny's_ red hair that it's always a bit of a surprise to see you."

Lamya's laugh sounded like bells, and she continued, "Don't mention it, 'Ermione.  I was razzur startled myself to see Ginny when I was walking behind 'er."

Changing the subject, Hermione asked innocently, "What are you reading?"  However, immediately after asking the question, she realized there were no books on the table.  Her lips parted slightly as she tried to picture how she had seen Lamya when she approached the table.

Lamya's smile faltered slightly, almost guiltily, but she answered, "Well, I actually came 'ere to ask you something…"

"How'd you know I'd be here?"

"Oh…  'Arry told me."

"All right, what did you need?"  Hermione asked.

"Er – well I was wondering if you could 'elp me with – er – Potions homework?"

"But, Lamya, you're a year ahead of me.  I suppose I _could_ try to help you, though, I suppose."

"Well, never mind.  I'll try to get 'elp from someone in my year.  I suppose I should be going," Lamya said, and quickly excused herself.

Once Lamya had left, Hermione bent to the floor to pick up a book that was lying beneath the table where Lamya had been sitting.  The dusty book was entitled, A Study of the Dark Arts.  It bore a stamp that was upon every book in the Restricted Section.  Hermione cast a long look at the now-empty door, wondering silently if Lamya had pilfered the book.  Until she knew more, Hermione vowed to keep this information to herself.

*~*~*

"Hagrid!" Harry, Hermione, and Ron exclaimed in unison upon seeing their friend standing outside his hut, accompanied by his boarhound, Fang.  Their haggard-looking friend gave them a somewhat exhausted smile in welcome.

"Well, there yeh are!  I was hopin' yeh wouldn't have changed classes after meeting the temporary teacher Professor Dumbledore foun'."  Hagrid scoffed.

Timidly, Hermione ventured, "Well, it's true that Professor Flappable wasn't as adequate as a Care of Magical Creatures teacher as you, but surely no one _dropped_ your class."

"Unless Malfoy did!" Ron exclaimed happily.  "That wouldn't be so bad."

Despite himself, Hagrid smiled.  "I wouldn' really want anyone to drop this class…"

There was a small pause before Harry broke the silence by asking quietly, "Where have you been, Hagrid?  We've missed you since school started."

For the briefest of moments, Hagrid's face contorted with misery as the apparent memories of the past months came flooding back to him.  However, he put on a brave face, and forced a smile upon his face when he answered, "Yeh know…  Olympe and me were gettin' Giants to join Dumbledore, an' all."

In the back of his mind, Harry felt that there was something Hagrid was refraining from telling the three fifteen-year-olds standing before him.  However, as he didn't want to dwell upon matters and taint the jovial meeting, Harry didn't press the matter.

The trio spent their Saturday afternoon in the company of Hagrid and Fang (careful to stay away from Hagrid's infamous rock cakes).  While Hermione read the book she had brought with her, Harry, Ron, and Hagrid discussed Quidditch – which Professor Dumbledore had promised to reinstate.

"When do Quidditch practices start, Harry?"  Hagrid asked as he gulped tea from his gigantic mug.

"I dunno," Harry replied, stirring his own tea doubtfully – he had found a feather floating in it earlier, and was a bit hesitant to drink any more.  "I reckon they'll have to start soon, though.  Since Wood's gone, our Quidditch team is going to need a new Keeper and captain.  Do you know how we'll find the new player?"  Harry asked, directing his question to either Ron or Hagrid.

Ron shrugged to show he wasn't sure, but Hagrid answered verbally, "There will have to be tryouts fer the Keeper, and there will be a vote amongst yerselves fer captain."

After a few moments more of conversation, Hermione piped up, saying, "Ron, Harry, we should probably be getting back to the castle.  It's getting rather late."  It was only at this moment that Harry and Ron noticed the steadily darkening sky.

"I'll walk with yeh to the Great Hall.  I've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore," Hagrid offered.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione accepted, and followed Hagrid out of his hut and made their way across the lengthy lawn.  The sky was tinged with red and purple and the stars were only beginning to twinkle and blink amid the velvety sky.  Harry walked quickly to catch up with Hagrid, who was striding towards the castle.  Hermione and Ron, however, purposefully slowed their pace.

To Harry's surprise, Hagrid chuckled.  "Wondered when those two would finally notice each other."

Harry quickly looked back towards his friends and saw them hastily pull their clasped hands apart.  Upon being discovered, Ron and Hermione walked quickly and guiltily towards Hagrid and Harry.  Harry remained silent about the matter when he was joined with his two friends.

The rest of the journey to the castle passed uneventfully, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione said goodbye to Hagrid once they reached the Great Hall.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined their fellow Gryffindors at their house table while Hagrid walked solemnly to the teachers' table, where they exchanged words with darkened expressions.  The rumbling of voices in the Great Hall prevented Harry from deciphering their words, but he could tell by Professor Dumbledore's progressively falling face that the discussion was not a pleasant one.  At once, the headmaster's piercing gaze befell upon Harry's face.  Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments, but it was enough time that Harry could read his blue eyes.  Hagrid was telling Professor Dumbledore something that directly concerned Harry.  Harry's short-lived idea to demand the truth from either Dumbledore or Hagrid was decimated when Hagrid's booming footfalls announced that he was moving to his seat at the teachers' table, and Albus Dumbledore gently cleared his throat to silence the room.

"Students," he began, beaming at the room, "I'm pleased to welcome the two remaining teachers who have been absent thus far into the session.  Firstly is our Care of Magical Creatures professor, Rubeus Hagrid."  He paused to allow for the raucous applause that was particularly loud at the Gryffindor table.  Hagrid, Harry was pleased to see, was blushing happily behind his beard.  "Finally," he said, eyes twinkling, "I'm sure you've all noticed and lamented the absence of a Defense Against the Dark Arts class.  I'm pleased to announce our newest appointment to our staff, Mrs. Arabella Figg."

Not for the first time in the past two months, Harry's jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

Ron and Hermione clapped politely with most of the other students.  Draco Malfoy, however, felt the need to call out, "A _woman_!  How are we supposed to learn the _much needed_ – " several Slytherins snickered " – defense against the Dark Arts if we have some incompetent witch teaching?"

Mrs. Figg's usually kind eyes flashed with a newfound malice in Draco's direction.  However, in all other appearances, she merely ignored the statement, and took her seat between Professors McGonagall and Flitwick.

Once more, the low rumble of conversation rolled throughout the Great Hall, but, apparently, Professor Dumbledore had not finished his announcements, for he continued, "On the topic of Quidditch – " a deathly stillness fell across the room " – I have decided that, for the time being, Quidditch will be allowed.  For any teams who have left Hogwarts, it will be up to the remaining team members to hold team tryouts.  Practices may begin at any time, team captains need to sign up for a time slot with Madam Hooch."

A collective roar shattered the silence of the Great Hall.

Fred and George were motioning frantically in Harry's direction by the time the headmaster had stopped speaking.  "Harry!"  Fred began as Harry walked over to the diabolic duo.  George continued where Fred's thought left off, "We've got to have tryouts as soon as possible!  You've got no idea how long we've been waiting to stomp Slytherin again…"  The twins gave each other mischievous smiles.

"Anyway," Fred continued, "We were thinking that we'd hold tryouts next Friday.  What do you think?"

A bit perplexed, Harry answered, "Well, that sounds fine to _me_, but what do I have to do with anything.  Am I going to have to tryout?"

George gave Fred a horrified look before slapping him roughly on the shoulder, "You stupid prat!  No, Harry – we wanted you to help us judge.  Alicia, Angelina, and Katie will be there too."

Embarrassed, Harry answered, "Sure.  What time?"

The twins looked at each other for half a moment before answering in unison, "Twelve o'clock."

"Okay then, I'll be there."

The twins walked away and joined Lee Jordan, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell who were sitting by themselves at the end of a table, no doubt devising some act that would cause Professor McGonagall to give them each four hours' worth of detention.

Harry walked back to where Ron and Hermione were sitting, and told them about the upcoming tryouts.  "What do you reckon, Ron – are you going to try out?"

A bashful smile crossed Ron's face, "Well, I had thought about it…"

*~*~*

The rest of the weekend passed uneventfully, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione – along with most of the other Gryffindors – were eagerly anticipating their upcoming Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

"Ah!  We'll have Professor Figg on Monday," Hermione had exclaimed when she was reviewing her schedule Sunday night.  "For once we won't have to wait to meet the new teacher."

Harry hadn't told Ron and Hermione that Mrs. – now Professor – Figg had been his babysitter for most of his life.

"Well, I, for one, am going to bed early so I'll be ready for Defense Against the Dark Arts tomorrow," Hermione stated as she gathered her pile of books to carry to her dormitory.

"_Hermione_," Ron muttered in disbelief as he and Harry continued their game of Exploding Snap.

After nearly an hour, the common room began to empty, and Harry and Ron decided to follow suit, and go to bed.

As was becoming usual, disturbing dreams plagued Harry.  He would awaken in a cold sweat only to remember bits of his dreams.  Tonight, he remembered only that there had been vague-looking figures partaking in a mysterious ceremony involving a central being that seemed to be leading the affair.  Harry was reminded strongly of Voldemort's rebirth.

More than a little rattled, Harry walked to his window to look across the grounds.  He was more than a little startled to see a darkened figure run across the lawn towards the Forbidden Forest.  Harry blinked his eyes a few times to ensure he was not dreaming, but when he again scanned the grounds, he saw no evidence that a human had been out there in hours.  Presuming he had been imagining things, Harry dipped a rag in his bowl of water he kept by the window, and wiped his face with the dampened rag.  He shivered when the frigid surface touched his skin.

Not wishing to go to sleep – considering he was now wide awake – and flooded with an overwhelming urge to use his father's invisibility cloak, Harry silently slid from the fifth years' dormitory and through the now-empty Gryffindor common room.  With exercised care, he pushed open the Fat Lady's portrait so as not to wake her and suffer her wrath.

It was at this point that Harry questioned his decision to leave the security of Gryffindor Tower and wander the corridors of Hogwarts aimlessly.  Something, however, practically prodded him in the back to continue his quest.

Harry allowed himself to be led by his feet.  Feeling sure there was someone or something that was whispering directions in his ear, Harry listened intently for any hint of a sound.  He was discouraged, however, when he heard only the soft plodding of his own feet upon the stone.

After nearly ten minutes of walking, and being accompanied by the growing certainly that he was completely lost, Harry finally found himself at a dead end.

At this moment, Harry was amazed to see a shadow, or a glimmer, partially vaporize before his eyes.  The glimmer uttered something in a language unfamiliar to Harry, and he was shocked to see the bricks pull themselves apart to reveal a passageway so long, Harry could barely see the pulsing light at the end.  He cast an uncertain glance behind him before plunging into its depths.

His each footstep echoed eerily as Harry walked slowly down the corridor until he neared the end of the corridor, when he heard voices.

"…But he _needs_ to know, Albus!"

"Arabella, you know that, typically, I'm the first to tell Harry everything I feel he needs to know.  But, 'Bella, you should know that this would shatter everything he knows.  When Hagrid was telling me what he discovered from the Giantess, Borzor, Harry looked directly at me, as though he _knew_ we were discussing him," Professor Dumbledore said evenly, but firmly.

Skeptically, Mrs. Figg spoke once again, "How can he be sure that Borzor was telling the truth?"

"Borzor was right in Voldemort's inner-circle, as far as Giants went.  However, she, like Severus, fully redeemed herself.  When Lily and James were killed, Borzor was on Voldemort's tail before she was stopped – and nearly killed – by Aurors.  As far as I'm concerned, her testimony has all the validity necessary."

By this time, Harry had entered the cavernous room in which Professors Dumbledore and Figg had been speaking.  However, despite his curiosity, Harry was backed into a wall near one of the many torches lighting the room.  He listened intently to each and every word, waiting for a hint of what they were speaking.

"Perhaps we should settle this matter later.  I've got classes tomorrow," Mrs. Figg said wearily.

"To teach, Professor Figg," the headmaster said, eyes twinkling.

Mrs. Figg broke into a happy smile, "I'll never get used to that, Albus.  Thank you for this chance.  I won't tell Harry anything until you give me permission."

"You're most welcome, m'dear.  I appreciate your cooperation.  There is a time and a place for anything."

With those final words, the two professors exited the room, and Professor Dumbledore extinguished the torches as he left.

"_Lumos_," Harry muttered to his wand.  However, this action was unnecessary because when Mrs. Figg and Professor Dumbledore left the room, Harry's glimmer returned, illuminating the room with a pacifying green color.

Harry forfeited himself to the glimmer, and followed it away from the room.  Though, this time, Harry paid attention to where he was being led and wasn't surprised to find himself standing before the portrait of the Fat Lady.  He removed his invisibility cloak, and woke the Fat Lady just enough that he could give her the password.  Just as he was pulling the portrait closed with a snap, he heard her emit a loud snore.  Stealthily, Harry walked through the common room; he barely considered what he was doing when he picked up a book of Ron's with the word 'Weasley' embossed on the cover.  Deciding he'd wake Ron in the morning to give him his book – not to mention tell him about the conversation he overheard – Harry went to his dormitory, and sat a moment on his bed merely pondering the events of the night.

Suddenly, Harry had a thought.  He reached into his trunk and pulled out a piece of paper.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he recited quietly as he tapped the parchment with his wand.  Carefully scripted words and pictures magically appeared on the bit of parchment.  After giving the 'Marauder's Map' a quick look, an amused look appeared on his face.  "I've found a passageway the Marauders didn't even manage to find."

With that final statement, Harry truly began to comprehend everything that had happened.  He barely managed to utter, "Mischief managed," before falling onto his bed in complete exhaustion.

_To be continued_…

**A/N**:  For those of you who are frustratingly confused about not knowing about "glimmers," please refrain from chewing me out ;)  I shall get into that later.  Everything that happened concerning glimmers in this chapter was completely new to Harry as well.  Don't worry – in that aspect, at least, I'm not such a poor writer!  Also, there's a little something in this chapter that I'm wondering whether anyone will notice.  I'll stop there, though.  Don't you hate it when people are vague?

**'Thank you' to**:

Be forewarned – I'm in a very 'thank you'-ish mood.

Firstly, to WhetherRose, Hollie, and T.H:  I *love* you three!  You are leaving the *best* reviews.  And, also, thanks for reading my sister's story.  *Supposedly* she's writing a new chapter.  And, also *supposedly*, it's longer than 400 words, heh…  Thank you, thank you, thank you!

**WhetherRose**:  I appreciate your comments (and your banter!) so much.  I absolutely love reading your reviews.  And you needn't worry about me being mad about you not leaving a review – I completely understand forgetting to leave a review.  When you wrote about fan fiction helping your English grades, I will completely agree with you.  I'm taking the ACT next Saturday, and when I took the prep test, I only missed two.  Although, as much as I'd like to help you with your English grades, I like hearing I didn't have any painfully obvious grammatical errors even more :).  As for Ginny's diary, you'll just have to wait to see what happens (muah hahaha! I'm so evil).  Also, I'm so happy you're back to writing fan fiction (*cheers and encourages everyone else to do the same*)!  Finally (after this, I _swear_ I'll shut my mouth), I'm so happy you liked Crossroads – I fell in love with it instantly.   As of yet, I haven't found a L/J fiction that quite compares to it.  You're lucky – Emmyjean just updated it with a new chapter.  I had to wait a whole month for this newest chapter.  But for the past few days I've been feeling warm and content inside…  Also, if you're a Harry/Ginny shipper (and I think you are…) they write the best H/G stories.  I find myself going to Casca and Emmyjeans' stories again and again.  They also write hilarious parodies…

**Hollie**:  I loved reading your comments.  They were so much fun!  Not to mention quite flattering ;).  I'm so impressed you found out the meaning of Lamya's name.  After this chapter, does it *sort of* make sense?  Also, I finished reading your story – I'm so happy you didn't wait until November to grace this website with your presence!  I love your story.  Thanks again!

**T.H**:  Your comments were also immensely amusing to read – I loved the expression you used when writing your review (particularly when you read that Lamya was in Slytherin, haha).  Also, thanks for the corrections (-to Rose- I guess I didn't write the perfect chapter *sigh*).  Oh, and I'm not neglecting The Master's Mirror *smiles proudly*.  Have you seen all the reviews I've left lately (well, I'm sure you have…)?  I've been a review-writing machine.  In fact, I'm going to read another chapter after I post this.  I'm happy you've not added about six chapters lately – it makes me feel like I'm getting somewhere ;).  Honestly, though, it's a fabulous story, and I know I'm going to be begging for more once I *do* complete the chapters posted and I have to wait for the next one…

**Babyphatcat13**:  Thanks for all the support you've given me – it's very uplifting!

**Also, Thanks** **To**:  Bonita Knows All, Lauren Graham, Sara Minks, (as I'm going through the list, I feel like thanking everyone mentioned above again!), Lauren, Oceansun, and Vying Quill.  Thanks so much!

_The Last_ **A/N**:  I wanted to apologize to anyone who read through those lengthy 'thanks,' and was bored stiff, but if you read my reviews you'd realize why I felt I should commend everyone!  Also, if there is a weekend that I (dare I say) don't get a chapter posted, it's because I'm indulging myself in my current obsession – Les Miserables (I'm listening to the CD right now).  I'm about to start Victor Hugo's novel (yep, all 1400 pages of it), and I may write a fanfic about it someday…  I already have a story halfway formed in my mind for Fantine, Eponine, or even Javert...  For anyone who is familiar with the story, I think you will agree with me that Eponine and Marius remind me of Ginny and Harry… Well, except for the whole "dying thing."  But take the phrase, "I know this is no place for me, still I would rather be with you."  *Le sigh* now that's initiative.  And anyone who's heard "On My Own."  Ah!  It's just heart wrenching, and it's exactly what I imagine Ginny sings when she's going to sleep.  Yeah, I'm sure you all wanted to know that.


	7. Truths, Secrets, and Lies Chapter 7

Truths, Secrets, and Lies

**Disclaimer**:  Basically, the only thing that doesn't belong to Joanne Kathleen Rowling is Lamya (and an assortment of spells you may see).

**Summary**:  Over the course of his fifth year, Harry makes a discovery that does not seem possible.  A new student will prove key to discover of the truth of Harry's past.

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Harry walked into the common room in search of Ron so Harry could return his book.  However, Ron (and Hermione) seemed to be absent from the nearly empty common room.  He tucked the book under his arm, and walked over to Ginny, who had just entered the room from her dormitory.

She stopped and looked at Harry as though he had suddenly morphed into Lord Voldemort.  Without warning, her books fell to the floor with a clatter.  The sudden noise, however, seemed to shake her from her stupor, and she greeted Harry – who had since slowed from a confident walk to a rather nervous shuffle – with a feigned smile.

"Er – Ginny?  Are you okay?"  Harry asked, his voice toeing the line between concern and unease.

Ginny emitted a strangled squeak, and nodded her head.

Inwardly, Harry shrugged, and presumed that Ginny was no longer angry, and was back to her usual self.  "Right.  Have you seen Ron?  I found his book last night…"

After glancing from Harry's face to the book, and back again, Ginny replied, somewhat reassured, "He and Hermione went for a quick walk.  Have you opened the book?"

Harry's brow furrowed and he took the book in his hands.  "Well, no…" He started to vaguely fan through the pages.  "It had the name 'Weasley' printed on the front, and I thought I saw Ron carrying around a book like this."

Quickly, Ginny broke in, "Oh!  Yes!  I remember that book.  I'll give it to Ron – you go down to breakfast, I'll wait for him to get back from his walk…"

"Okay," Harry said as he handed the book to Ginny (who nearly pulled a few of Harry's fingers off as she yanked it from his grasp).  Still a bit surprised at Ginny's behavior, Harry voiced rather guttural thanks and walked through the portrait hole to make his way to the Great Hall.

Unbeknownst to him, Ginny had at once succumbed to the weakness in her knees, and slid to the floor, clutching her book to her breast in utter relief.

*~*~*

Harry sat in the Great Hall engrossed in thought.  Weighing heavily on his mind was his encounter with Professor Figg and Professor Dumbledore.  He couldn't imagine a scenario that would lead to the necessity of such a secret meeting…  Unless they were discussing matters so important that it was imperative that no one overhear them.  But what issue could be so important?  Voldemort?  Of course; that was the obvious answer.  Shadows of doubt, however, betrayed themselves to Harry.  Having abandoned the thought of eating long ago, Harry stroked his jaw line contemplatively.  Really, he couldn't assume the conversation he had overheard was about Lord Voldemort – clearly, he had entered in the middle of the exchange.  Perhaps the answer to his question lay with the giantess, Borzor.  Whatever the discussion had been about, it concerned Harry, and he was determined to discover what he had heard.

His thoughts then turned to Ginny.  She had been acting strangely since Lamya's arrival.  As far as he could remember, she hadn't been in such a rotten mood at the Burrow.  Of course, Harry was well aware that Ginny had had a crush on him since Harry met the Weasleys.  Surely she couldn't be jealous?  To Harry's memory, Ginny had never been jealous.  _But, then,_ he thought to himself, _how would I know?  I'm never there for her._  Feeling significantly worse than he had before breakfast, Harry looked around for his two friends.

"Where are Ron and Hermione?" Harry asked himself exasperatedly.  In a scant moment's time, Defense Against the Dark Arts was due to start, and Harry decided he would hope Ron and Hermione arrived on their own accord.  Harry gathered his books, and traveled the halls to the familiar Defense Against the Dark Arts room, hoping he'd find Ron and Hermione on the way.

*~*~*

Harry entered Defense Against the Dark Arts without having seen Ron or Hermione.  Had he not been so preoccupied, Harry would have smiled at the thought of what his two best friends were up to.  A cool blast of air ruffled Harry's hair when he crossed the threshold of the large stone room.  Professor Figg stood behind her desk, nervously shuffling papers.

"Good morning, Harry," She said when she paused momentarily to glance at Harry.

Harry averted his eyes guiltily as he recalled eavesdropping on Professors Dumbledore and Figg.  However, he answered as normally as possible and tried to create conversation, "Hello…  What are we studying today?"

Serenely, Professor Figg smiled, "Oh, it's going to be a wonderful lesson – we're going to learn about the most _fascinating_ creature!  But I'm afraid you're going to have to wait to discover which creature I'm going to expose you to along with everyone else."

Nodding, Harry conceded, "All right."  Suddenly, an idea struck Harry; "Professor, I need to ask you about something – " However, when a throng of students abruptly and vociferously entered the classroom, Harry withdrew the question.  "Never mind," he murmured.

Hermione sat next to Harry, rosy-cheeked and smiling.  "I thought we were going to be late!  I hope you know I've never been late for a class, Mister Weasley," she said.  Despite her seemingly harsh words, however, she was positively glowing as though she couldn't be happier that she was nearly late.

"Well, _Miss_ Granger," Ron countered teasingly, "I believe it was you whom insisted that we took a walk around the lake before you helped me with my Transfiguration homework."

While Hermione blushed and became engrossed in her Defense Against the Dark Arts book, Ron shuddered violently.  "Oi!  Do you ever get that feeling on the back of your neck – that prickling?"

Wordlessly, Harry nodded.

"It's been cursing me all morning…" Whether Ron had intended to say anything further, is undeterminable, for, at this moment, Professor Figg moved to stand before the class.

"Ah – yes.  Welcome to my Defense Against the Dark Arts class.  As I understand, since the beginning of the year you've merely been covering material from past years.  Oh, dear!"  At this moment, the papers she had been clutching spilled from Professor Figg's hands.  To Harry's dismay, several students laughed.

"Come on – give her a chance," Harry muttered shortly at Ron, who had been among the number to snicker.  Harry realized that he hadn't told Ron and Hermione that this was the same woman with whom Harry had lodged part of the summer.  After giving him a quizzical look, Ron abstained from mocking the professor any longer.

Blushing furiously, Professor Figg resumed her position in front of the class.  "Pardon that… display," she said, fumbling for words.  However, she quickly seemed to lose her tense manner as she discussed the upcoming lesson.  "I have in my possession one of the most feared creatures of the Middle East – " upon making this announcement, many students who doubted Professor Figg's capability allowed their blatant fear to show on their faces.  "Don't worry – we won't deal with it until next lesson.  It is a creature that is omnipresent.  It is a creature that is believed to cause much of the pain and anguish suffered by humans as well as many accidents for which no person can be blamed.  Even Muggles – who are not as attuned to creatures possessed with Dark Magic – acknowledge its presence.  In the Qur'an, the holy book of Muggles who follow the Muslim religion, there is noted a class of creatures called 'Jinn.'"  She paused as though her statement should have a profound affect on the students.  Rather than become irritated, she prompted the students, "Perhaps you would be more familiar with the Anglicized version of 'genie.'"

Finally, Professor Figg noticed the recognition for which she had been hoping.

"Yeah!  I know what a genie is," Dean Thomas said proudly.  "They grant people three wishes and live in lamps!"  Self-satisfied with himself, Dean nodded firmly at Hermione, convinced that he had shown her up at long last.  In her own right, Hermione looked unconvinced.

"But, professor, I've always thought genies to have good magic," she said, contradicting Dean.

"Ah, and this is where a difference in culture leads to differences in interpretation.  Indeed, the version of genies you lot are familiar with is quite a bit different than the Middle East's Jinn.  For one thing, Dean, I'm sorry to say, your genies don't exist," sadly, Dean accepted being wrong, but, nevertheless, seemed interested in the lesson.  Quickly, Professor Figg continued, "They are merely a fabrication created by wistful men and women who were down on their luck.  However, Jinn flourish in the hot, desert climate of the Middle East."

Harry chanced a glance at Hermione, and she was furiously copying notes, enraptured.  With a small smile, Harry decided that a teacher had finally hit upon a topic with which Hermione wasn't familiar.

Professor Figg clasped her hands together and asked, smiling, of the class, "Does anyone know any further information about Jinn?"

The Gryffindors' heads spun as they turned to look for any sign of a hand in the air.

"Yes, dear; what's your name?"

"Parvati Patil, professor."

"Ah, thank you.  What do you know of Jinn?"

"Well…" Parvati stuttered – she wasn't one to volunteer information outside Divination.  "My mum and dad have told me stories about Jinn.  For instance, they can change shape at will.  In communities conscious of the Jinn, the people ask the blessings of the Jinn before disposing or gathering water for fear the spirits will seek revenge on anyone who disturbs the Jinn, who make their homes in baths, lakes, and wells."

"Very well put, Parvati," Professor Figg commended.  "As Miss Patil explained, Jinn _are_ shape-shifters.  However, in their original form, a Jinni is made from smokeless fire – making it invisible and, sometimes, a mortal danger."  Once more, the students exchanged terrified glances.  Professor Figg, apparently oblivious to the students' fear, continued, "In fact, some Jinn, who usually lurk around cemeteries and feed on human flesh, may use their shape-shifting abilities to lure a traveler into losing his or her way under the guise of another traveler.  Upon confusing the human, the Jinni will feast upon his or her flesh."  Having made this statement, Professor Figg paused to allow the class to take in the information.  Hermione raised her hand.

"Do you have a question – " she looked at her list of names " – Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Professor," Hermione answered.  "Do all Jinn contain Dark Magic?  It seems as though humans would have had some good experiences with Jinn if they created 'genies'."

"Wonderful question, Hermione," Professor Figg said, impressed.  "You've brought me to my next point, which is the fact that there are _many_ different kinds of Jinn.  There are five different classes of the loosely used term 'Jinn'.  These classes include, beginning with the weakest, Jann, Jinn, Sheytans, Ifrits, and, most powerfully, Marids.  Ifrits – which are all but extinct now – plagued the ancient Egyptians for hundreds of years.  These demonic creatures were the cause of nearly every violent death in the time of the Egyptians."  The students in the classroom exchanged worried glances.  Yet again, Hermione's hand shot into the air.

"But, professor, you really didn't answer my question – " she interjected hurriedly.

"Don't worry, Miss Granger, I was building to it.  I thought you might enjoy some a bit of background material."

Hermione flushed, "Sorry, Professor Figg."

Professor Figg dismissed the apology with the wave of a hand.  "An apology isn't necessary – I find your thirst for knowledge refreshing.  As I was saying, there are, indeed, many classes of Jinn, _including_ Jinn with White, or Good, Magic.  Though they can, technically, be referred to as Jinn as well, these creatures with White Magic are typically called 'Piris'.  Piris are also shape-shifters and possess the ability to be invisible.  In their truest form, however, Piris are usually vaguely visible.

"Protection against Jinn is very primitive due to the immensely ancient magic present in their systems.  However, common forms of protection Muggles use are quite adequate for witches and wizards to use as well.  These protections include salt; a group of squares called, 'seven magical seals;' or anything made of steel or iron.  Witches and wizards traveling to the Middle East are usually advised to carry some form of iron or steel.  There is also a lengthy chant one can utter whilst pointing one's wand at a Jinni.  It is, 'Bismilahirahmanirahim'."  Following Professor Figg's final statement, tentatively, Seamus raised his hand.

"Yes…"

"Seamus Finnigan.  I was wondering how we could spot a Jinni?"

"Ah, yes!  Jinn are extremely difficult to distinguish because of the fact that humans are only _visually_ aware of them when they have assumed the form of a human.  It is rare that a Jinni will take the shape of a human, or animal, because when they do, the laws of Earth govern their lives, and they become susceptible to dangers that humans and animals are normally faced with.  If a Jinni, somehow, suffered a fatal wound, because of the smokeless fire that flows in its veins, it would combust.  The flames would engulf it and reduce the Jinni in the form of a human to little more than ashes, and hide the existence of the masquerading Jinni.  However, to differentiate Jinni from a human, you need only look at its eyes and fingers.  The eyes of a Jinni will be a brilliant shade of violet flecked with gold, and its fingers will be abnormally long.  Viewing these physical traits, however, is difficult because Jinn in their human form wear the traditional garb of the Middle East.  For example, long, dark robes usually conceal their disfigured fingers, and hoods veil their eyes."

The rest of the class period passed in a flurry of questions.  Just before she dismissed the class, Professor Figg made the announcement, "As I said at the beginning of class, I have in my possession a Jinni.  I ask that you practice the 'Bismilahirahmanirahim' chant.  Also, please write an essay, on Jinn, that is three feet long.  If you include in your essay the one defense I have excluded from my lesson, I will award Gryffindor House five points for each person who discovers it.  Please come to class with the chant memorized and your essay written.  You may go," she bade farewell with a final smile.

Ron, who had been quite enthusiastic throughout the class now sat at his desk with his shoulders slumped, and whispered frantically, "Three feet of parchment!  She's mad…  I think she and Professor McGonagall have make a pact to give us an impossible amount of homework."

"Ron," Hermione chided, "We have to know about this!  What if it comes up on our O.W.L.s?  Do you want to be the only fifth year who doesn't know the 'Bismilahirahmanirahim' chant?"

"No, but I _don't_ know the Bismarckawhodawhatsit chant!"

Exasperatedly, Hermione rolled her eyes and hissed, "_Bismilahirahmanirahim_!  Honestly, didn't you listen?  You'd better practice extra hard before next class."

Quietly, Harry excused himself, "You two go along… I'm going to stay after class a bit."  He had been building confidence throughout the whole class period to ask the question he had meant to ask before the students had filed into the room prior to the beginning of class.

Ron and Hermione exited the classroom, still bickering half-heartedly.

"Hello, Harry," she smiled.  "Can I help you with anything?"

"I just…" words failed him.  "Erm…  Does our essay only have to be about Jinn, or may we include Piris as well?"

"Yes, of course, that's fine."

"Okay."  Looking somewhat unfulfilled, Harry took his leave from the classroom, giving Professor Figg a small wave in goodbye.

*~*~*

The remaining days in the school week passed in a flurry of homework.  Harry had been reading about Jinn every night in the library, and nearly forgot about Quidditch tryouts, which would be held Friday.

"Ron, are you okay?  You look slightly ill," Harry reported Thursday night when Ron entered the common room with a glazed look on his face.

"Are you kidding me?  I have a test in Potions _and_ Quidditch tryouts on the same day!" Ron responded, his voice cracking.  He had been on edge the past couple of days.  Apparently, Hermione's constant badgering about the importance of the O.W.L.s were getting to him, and he was folding under pressure.  To make matters worse, Harry was surprised to see Ron suddenly duck his head so his forehead smashed into his table.

"Aw, does little Ronniekins not like to have his hair ruffled?" Came the teasing voice of George Weasley.

"Or does he just enjoy crushing his nose into the wooden table?" Fred echoed.

"That was _not_ funny!" Ron insisted, massaging his now-reddened forehead.

The twins gave each other identical mischievous grins, "We beg to differ…" Fred began.

"But we digress – " George said, and Fred agreed with a nod " – As much as we'd love to argue the fine art of humor with you, dear brother, we have a bit of unfortunate news to give you two."

Both Harry and Ron's faces turned expectantly towards the twins.

"Due to – er – unfortunate circumstances we could not avoid – " Fred began, but was cut of by Ginny, who was clutching a small stack of books to her chest, when she piped up as she was passing the group on her way to her dormitory.

"Detention!" She scoffed.

"Listen," George retorted, "We found a perfectly good bag of dung bombs in the common room – I mean, really, what are the odds of that? – We honestly couldn't pass up the opportunity!"

"Ha – _found_!" Ginny exclaimed.  "I saw you pilfer that bag of dung bombs from Alvin Nash, the first year!"

George sniffed, "Honestly, if he had used those dung bombs, it would have been a waste of a detention!  Besides, anything in the common room is completely fair game after six o'clock!"

"REALLY," Fred interrupted, casting a reproachful glance at George, "We'd like to spare you all the _boring_ details, so, to make a long story short we're going to miss tryouts tomorrow, Ron."

Visibly, Ron and Harry both relaxed.

"So that means we're going to miss judging as well, mate," George said to Harry.  "You, Angelina, Alicia, and Katie will have to do that without us.  We really are sorry, but you just wouldn't believe the opportunity we had!  We were…"

"_Boring_ details, George."

"Ah, yeah," George said.

"Anyway," Fred began, once again addressing Harry and Ron, "We're going to work with Lee Jordan, so he can commentate the tryouts!"

"Boring details, _Fred_," George said, elbowing Fred's arm.  Fred, however, merely rolled his eyes.  George then continued, "Anyway, we'd better get to bed.  Filch is going to have us clean the Owlry starting at four in the afternoon!  It's going to take all night…" In unison, the twins groaned.

"G'night," Harry and Ron called to the retreating boys' backs.

An awkward silence settled over the remaining students in the common room:  Harry, Ron, and Ginny.

"Well – um – I guess I should go too," Ginny said, her voice significantly softer than it had been when she was debating with George.

"Goodnight, Ginny," Ron called nonchalantly.

"Bye," Harry said as he watched her bustle quickly to the spiral staircase.

*~*~*

"So, Harry, how're you doing?" Ron asked, his face as white as a sheet as he gripped is broom tightly.

"Well, I'm okay… but I'm not trying out for the Quidditch team," Harry said, looking anxiously at his friend.

"Oh yeah!" Ron said, giving a strangely forced laugh.  Suddenly, the red-haired Weasley turned on his heel, and began striding away from the Quidditch pitch, mumbling to himself.  It was all Harry could do to drag him back.

"C'mon, Ron, you'll be fine – it will be just like playing at the Burrow."

"Yeah.  It will be exactly the same.  Except for the fact that I am _trying out_ for the _house_ Quidditch team so I can play in front of a _thousand_ students with people who aren't my _brothers_…" Ron, suddenly looking ill, once again made to turn towards the castle.  Harry, however, was quicker.  He wrenched Ron's arm so he'd keep walking.

"Aw, you make it sound so much worse than it is!" Came the voice of none other than Fred Weasley as he jovially clapped Ron on the back.

Now with a stricken, stunned look on his face to accompany his pallor, Ron gaped at his twin brothers.  "How did you escape Filch?"

"Well, thanks to a brilliant idea – " George began.

"And a _dazzling_ performance – " Fred augmented.

"We were able to flee the clutches of Filch."

"We paid off a couple of third year look-alikes to be us for a couple of hours so we could come to watch our brother try out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team!"  At the word 'Quidditch,' Ron's knees suddenly weakened.  Thinking to take Ron's mind off the tryouts for a moment, George added to Fred's explanation.

"To ensure that Filch won't think to check on 'us,' we've created a smidge of a distraction for him to attend to."

Intrigued, Harry raised an eyebrow, "Should I even ask what…"

"No, you really shouldn't.  We might have to kill you," Fred said, winking at Harry.  "Eh, if you really want to know, it had to do with Peeves, Tail Taffy, and dung bombs.  The overall execution was quite effective, but it won't make for a happy Filch," Fred shuddered.

"If we get caught, you have no idea how many hours of detention we're going to serve for you, Ron," George said, marveling.  "I reckon it would be a record.  Perhaps we should confess, Fred.  I bet we'd get a trophy to immortalize ourselves forever at Hogwarts!"

"Naw," Fred said, dismissing the idea.  "I think we could come up with something better than that.  What do you think, Ron?  Should we try for an award for most hours of detention served?"

Ron, however, was in no state to comment.  His eyes were becoming glassy, and his movements perfunctory.

"I've never seen him this nervous," Harry said.

"Hopefully he'll get over it," George said, snapping his fingers in front of Ron's eyes.  Shrugging, he turned Ron over to Fred.  "What can you do for him, Fred?"  For a moment, Fred remained silent as he contemplated the situation.  His face suddenly illuminated with an idea.

"Ah!  Hey, George, did you see that picture in Witch Weekly of Viktor Krum snogging Hermione?"

For a fleeting moment, a look of befuddlement overcame George's face.  Quickly, however, he caught on, "Oh yeah, I hung the pull-out poster above my bed.  Hermione really is a natural in front of the camera…"

As they'd hoped, Ron arose from his stupor.  "What are you talking about?  Snogging?  Krum?  HERMIONE?"

"Yep, that's our Ronnie," Fred said.  "Always one to be a bit hyper-sensitive about his woman."

Resentfully, Ron succumbed to the reddening of his cheeks, and sullenly crossed his arms over his broomstick.  However, he no longer retained the comatose look he'd had since leaving the castle, and he didn't seem quite as nervous.  Despite the fact he was aware of everything happening around him, Ron was now ignoring his brothers on his own accord.

After a couple of minutes of walking in silence, Harry, Ron, Fred, and George arrived at the Quidditch pitch.

"Ah, Mister Weasley," came the voice of Madam Hooch, who was overseeing all Quidditch tryouts as an added measure of security, "I'm glad you've decided to tryout for the Gryffindor team.  I'm sure you'll fulfill the Weasley legacy of exceptional Quidditch players!  Now, if you'll join your fellow housemates, we'll begin the tryouts shortly."  She steered Ron in the direction of a small, huddling group of Gryffindors waiting nervously on the field.

"Now, you two," she said, turning sternly to Fred and George, "I overheard Filch discussing his detention plans for you two with Mrs. Norris.  He seemed positively gleeful…" she trailed off.  "Anyway, should I inquire as to why you two are here rather than the castle?"

"No, you really shouldn't," Fred muttered in a voice too soft for anyone but Harry and George to hear.  George, however, shot Fred a critical stare, and explained the reason for their presence.

"Yeah, we _do_ have detention, but Filch decided to push it back a couple of hours so we could attend the Quidditch tryouts and watch our dear brother's performance."

"Oh!  Yes, he's quite the understanding fellow, Filch is," Fred said solemnly.  "After our numerous engagements, we've developed a relatively sound relationship with the man."  Harry felt the twins were pushing their luck to trick Madam Hooch, but, nevertheless, he remained silent as he waited for the jurisdiction Madam Hooch would deliver.

Skeptically, Madam Hooch stared alternately between Fred and George, who were, miraculously, keeping their composure.  Heavily, she sighed and said, "All right, but if I get just _one_ complaint from Filch – " however, any remaining words Madam Hooch wished to share with the twins were wasted as they walked briskly to Angelina, Alicia, and Katie, who were talking and giggling near the stands.  "Those two…" Madam Hooch said to no one in particular as she shook her head.  "Harry, please take these – " she handed him a small stack of papers " – and give some to Fred and George.  The girls already have their papers.  You'll see a line to put the person's name who is trying out for the team, as well as boxes in which you can write the points you feel should be given to each student.  I believe that's everything, so, after I give a few instructions to the other students we'll begin."  With that, Harry and Madam Hooch parted ways, Harry walking to his fellow judges, and Madam Hooch striding quickly to the participants.

"Here.  Madam Hooch wanted me to give you two these," Harry said, handing a stack of papers each to Fred and George.  He then turned to where Ron and the other Gryffindors were standing to see a student begin to walk purposefully towards the judges.

"I'm Melvin Cummings.  I'd like to try out as a reserve chaser."

Harry looked questioningly at his fellow teammates, and said, "Are we holding tryouts for reserves?"

Katie Bell spoke, "Yes – after all, we," she gestured to her fellow chasers and beaters, "Will be leaving Hogwarts after this year…  We should start training our future team, don't you think?"

Nodding, Harry answered silently.

"Okay, Melvin," Angelina Johnson called, "Katie and Alicia will fly with you, and you will have twenty chances to get the Quaffle passed the Keeper."

"Speaking of which," Alicia said, building on Angelina's statement, "We'll need a Keeper to tryout with Melvin.  However, this will _not_ be your actual tryout.  Who'd like to try?"  The silence that settled over the Quidditch pitch was deafening.  Harry could almost hear the silent prayers of the throng of Gryffindors to be spared from this portion of the tryout.

"Ronald Weasley," George coughed.

Smiling, Alicia said, "Ron, would you like a shot?  Keep in mind, this isn't your actual tryout, so any mistakes will be overlooked, and it _might_ help calm your nerves."

Resignedly, Ron trudged forward.  "Yeah, all right."

"Here we go!" Katie said as she and Alicia leapt onto their broomsticks.  Melvin and Ron followed suit.

It was evident from the moment the group of four ascended the ground that Ron and Melvin were naturals.  Melvin worked with Alicia and Katie to create intricate, weaving patterns in the sky as they executed perfect plays.  The Quaffle flew between the three chasers so quickly that it appeared to not even touch their fingertips – it was little more than a red blur accompanied by three figures flashing through the sky.  After several moments of passing the Quaffle, Melvin made his first attempt to make a goal.  After Harry's eyes had completely lost track of the Quaffle, he saw a red haze fly swiftly to the golden hoops Ron was so vigilantly guarding.  Expecting the worst, Harry closed his eyes.  However, the uproar that ensued from Fred and George was enough to encourage Harry to open his eyes.  The vision that met Harry's eyes was that of a triumphant Ron holding the Quaffle.  At the end of Melvin's tryout, he had managed only to make three goals out of twenty.  Ron landed with a soft thud, shooting a confident smile to Harry, Fred, and George.

The rest of the tryouts passed as Gryffindors with varying amounts of enthusiasm and talent tried out as chasers, keepers, and beaters.  The last person to try out was Ron.  Fearlessly, he faced Melvin, Alicia, and Katie.

"And here's the youngest Weasley brother," came the voice of none other than Lee Jordan.  His voice was magically magnified as he commentated Ron's tryout.

Harry's eyes widened as he marveled that the twins succeeded.

His amazement must have shown on his face, for George said,  "Yep, I swiped Filch's key last night when he was – er – _awarding _us detention."

"We devised the plan last night with Lee," Fred explained.

"What a _spectacular _display by young Ronald!  If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was Oliver Wood, reincarnated… or just dragged back to suffer one more year at Hogwarts.  He – uh-oh…" Lee muttered an expletive that caused an already-infuriated Madam Hooch to roar so loudly that from where they stood, Harry, Fred, and George could hear.

"Run, Lee, RUN!" Fred shouted to his fleeing friend.

"If he gets caught we'll be in trouble with Filch _and _Madam Hooch," George said, for Harry's benefit.  "Although," he stated, addressing Fred, "If you wanted him to go unpunished – and not squeal on us – then perhaps you shouldn't have screamed his _name_, Fred!"

Harry tried to ignore the twins as bickering ensued.  He tried to concentrate, instead, on Ron, who was indeed demonstrating his excellent Keeper abilities.  As before, and despite the major distraction, few Quaffles passed Ron's domain.  This time, he stopped nineteen of twenty passes, astounding the whole of the team as well as the people trying out for positions on the team.

"Well done, Ron!" Fred and George called in unison as their brother landed, smiling sheepishly, on the grassy field.

"It wasn't that great…" He said abashedly.

"Are you kidding?  I don't think Oliver Wood himself stopped that many passes when he tried out for Keeper!" Fred said.

"Ron!  You were wonderful!" came Hermione's feminine voice as she rushed onto the field.  Ron blushed furiously as he tried to accept the compliment.

"Thanks…"

Angelina now took matters into her hands.  "We'd like to thank everyone for trying out!  You all did wonderfully!  We'll have results posted tomorrow morning in the common room before breakfast.  Then, Alicia, Katie or myself will inform the new Keeper and reserves when practice will begin as well as when we will hold the election of a team captain."  Following her statement, the Gryffindors walked back to the castle together, smiling in relief.

*~*~*

After Harry and his fellow Gryffindors had eaten dinner, Harry told Ron and Hermione that he was going to the library to research Jinn ("_Again_?!"  Ron had asked exasperatedly).  However, in his heart, Harry knew he was telling his friends a lie.  Harry's footfalls reverberated off the walls as he trod the passages he knew led to the mysterious cavern with which he had had a most mysterious encounter.  He paused momentarily as he came to a fork in a corridor that was unfamiliar to him.  Mentally, he was reviewing the midnight walk.  All he could remember, however, was leaving Gryffindor tower and the strange blue cloud or glimmer that he had encountered outside the cavern's opening.  A sudden voice shattered his frantically gathered memories.

"Hey!  Harry…" Came the voice of Lamya Meda.  Harry heard a barely-audible word mumbled.  "'Ow is it zat you chanced upon this corridor?"  The question was innocent enough, but Harry felt himself flush as he contrived an alibi.

"I was just…  Going to the library – " at this, he looked around the passage " – but I got a bit lost.  I was just going to read up a bit more on Professor Figg's Jinn."

Lamya's face brightened.  "Ah!  Zat is wonderful!  I could use some 'elp on my research.  Do you mind if I go with you to ze library?"

Though he was desperately wishing he would shout 'no,' Harry agreed to her request with a nod of his head.  He, therefore, had no choice but turn on his heel, and accompany Lamya to the library.

_To Be Continued…_

**A/N**:  I hope you enjoyed the D.A.D.A. class…  Jinn (as you may have assumed) are actually creatures in the Qur'an.  I researched them a bit, but put my own spin on the creatures.  Anyway, I found the idea of Jinn to be fascinating, and my only hope for this chapter was that I didn't bore everyone to death!  Also, I'm aware that this isn't the best place to end the chapter, but the next scene will be rather lengthy, so I wanted to include it in the next chapter.  Thanks for reading!  I'd appreciate any reviews!

**'Thanks' To**:

**WhetherRose**:  I would like everyone to join me in welcoming WhetherRose back to fanfiction.net as an author!  I was so happy to see that you'd updated (surely that means school hasn't been quite so awful).  Also, I want everyone to know that Rose was exactly right in her speculations – I simply loved reading that review…  Clues just aren't the same when nobody catches them ;).  You've also inspired me.  Since you're so hung up on the diary, I'm going to make it play a more pivotal role in the story (Hmm.  Perhaps that's not the correct wording.  I'm not sure inanimate objects can actually have 'roles.'  Ah, well.).  Actually, it might make the story more interesting…  Oh, and thank you for wishing me luck with both my ACTs and my speech – my speech went extremely well, and I _think _my ACTs went pretty well [for not studying] as well.  Thanks yet again for all of the lovely reviews and encouragement!

**T.H**:  First and foremost, I feel I should thank you for your reviews (I suppose that is what this is for…), but, also, thank you for posting a new chapter!  It was wonderful (as usual :) ).  I really appreciate that you *sort of* waited for me (I know you were tweaking.  Perhaps I should thank you for tweaking your chapter!).  It's kind of nice to know there aren't ten chapters looming over me any longer!  Anyway, a few comments about your latest review for this story (if you even remember…).  I hate to keep you waiting on the glimmers, but it will come with time.  Oi!  I can't wait to write about them…  You noticed something that is of significance, too.  The person running on the grounds _is_ connected with the secret passage, but their relationship isn't as close as you might think (It's difficult to make this ambiguous and explain it at the same time… Sorry if that didn't help at all!).  Thanks again for the reviews!

**Hollie**:  *Sheepishly* I'm extremely sorry it took me so long to review your newest chapter (but, you might notice that I reviewed it before I finished my chapter.  Surely that will win me brownie points…).  As I said, when I sat to read your chapter, I had a brilliant idea, and wrote the final chapter of this story.  Oh no!  I'm being quite evil… I *still* haven't told you what glimmers are!  I hope you won't go _too_ insane (though, a little insanity makes life a bit more interesting, don't you think?).  Also, that secret passage _is_ top secret, but I think the Marauders could have discovered it if they had shown a bit more initiative ;).  Oh, and one more thing.  You commented on 'Flappable' being a funny name… I thought it was too:  I ran across that word when I was flipping through the dictionary during English class, and thought it would be funny to use as a teacher's name.  So, when I needed a teacher, voila, I had a name!  Thanks for the reviews!

**Sara Minks**:  That is awesome that you're interested in Les Miz as well (and T.H is… maybe we should work to convince everyone to read the book – or see the musical as the case may be!).  I'm assuming that you and T.H are reading the novel.  How do you [meant to be directed to both Sara and T.H] like the book so far?  I love it!  I can't wait to finish it and write a fanfiction…

**Bonita Knows All**:  You're slacking off, sis.  You didn't read chapter six.  And you haven't started writing a new chapter.  Just what am I going to do with you?  Oh!  *Blushes* Maybe I should tell you that I've updated.  Silly me.

**Roary14**:  I just wanted to tell you that I *am* planning to read your story (if you read this chapter), but I haven't had time due to inspiration striking at inconvenient times, play practice, practice for tryouts for a choir (which I made!  Sorry, I just had to share my euphoric mood with everyone – the first two years I tried out I didn't make it.  There were nearly 200 sopranos who tried out, and I was among the 35 to get in the choir *jumps in prolonged joy*.  Okay, I'll be quiet now).

**Oceansun**:  I wanted to welcome you back to my stories (even though you are reading Tom Riddle, and this review is kind of futile :) )!  Thanks for telling me that you've updated…  It had been ages since I checked your story – sorry!  Also, I believe you asked if I live in Kansas.  *Sighs sadly*.  I prefer to call it the cultural wasteland of the country (eh, I suppose it's not _that_ bad), but yes.  I believe you met my sister at Girl Scout Camp (maybe…  I can't remember for sure if that's where it was – her name is Erin…). 

**Also, Thanks To**:  Lauren Graham and Lauren (perhaps I should thank myself as well so there will be three Laurens…) for leaving reviews!

Thanks again, to everyone who has left a review!  I feel so fortunate to have such wonderful reviewers!


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